#both regarding format & slower answers

[justsigma-bsd]

" Hey, Siggy, I am back from that little chat with 'em " (They hums as they came back with their makeshift attempt at patching up their knees)

@theshowstarts

[OOC: I am still testing things out, so things might change every now and then 'till I can hammer this whole format thing out, Also might be a bit drained from that RP with Mori yesterday, so things might be a bit slower than usual, so I am super sorry 'bout that, Also assuming he's back from that]

*He winces slightly.*

"... I'll assume... I'll assume it didn't go well...?"

[toffabergphotography]

An interview with my self – 2023

1. What is the one thing you wish you knew when you started taking photos?

2. How did you get good at photography?

It happened during a moonlit night under a starry sky. All of a sudden a beam of light shone down upon me and an ominous voice spoke to me: “Now you’re good at photography!”.

All joking aside. There is one way to get good at photography, and that is to work at it. You need to put in the hours learning the principle of photography. Get your horizons straight. Learn how to use depth of field. How different shutter speeds convey different things. How ISO impacts your images.

Or more correctly, learn how the concept of ISO (ASA) in an analog sense impacts your images as ISO in the digital age is not that big of a thing anymore. Technology has come so far now that ISO in these days is more of an ND filter for your camera than it was in the days of analog film. Yes, a slower ISO will yield a cleaner file in terms of noise, but with today’s quality on high ISO like 800 and 1600 is far superior in that regard than earlier. Beside this you also have composition and image editing as well. 

3. What gear do you use?

The one I have at hand. Last time I answered this question I elaborated in more detail about this but I won’t this time. What gear you use has in a general sense not that much impact on your photography. When you start out you often think that gear has so much to do with what type of images you’ll be able to capture. That the latest camera will make you take better images. The reality is that gear plays a far smaller part in that equation than most think. It’s not the pots and pans that make a chef create a good meal, it’s the skill. The knowledge of the ingredients and how to employ them in a dish. Yes, there are some gear that is needed to achieve certain effects like a circular polarizer or a flash.

But having a limited access to gear will also help you solve problems in a more creative manner. By having let say just one speedlight you’re forced into making it work for you. Same goes for having a limited range of focal lengths. Also, if you don’t have the skills to capture a good image you won’t get a better image with lets say a Phase One medium format digital back. All you’re left with is a higher resolution garbage.

But to tackle the question more directly, I personally have used Nikon for 20 years. Both analog and digital. My personal reason for this is that a Nikon feels good in my hand and they are mostly built like tanks that can take whatever beating you throw at it and come back for more. Also with the old F-mount one was able to use a vast array of lenses that date back to 1957.

With regard to lenses, I have for the last 13 years favoured Tamron zoom lenses. The reason for this is that it presents a good mix of quality versus price. This is what makes up the backbone of my gear roster. I also still use filters when I shoot, like ND-grads and ND-filters. My philosophy is that I want to get my exposure right on location instead of blending different exposures in the digital darkroom later. With regards to bags and backpacks I like F-Stop backpacks as they have great quality and modularity. When it comes to tripods I use Feisol legs and either a geared or 3-way head over a ball head as I’m not comfortable with ball heads for the way I shoot.

4. Which lens is your favourite? Why?

I don’t have a favourite lens in that sense, but my most loved lens is my Tamron SP 28-75mm f2.8. The reason for it is that that lens has never let me down. It has taken whatever beating I have thrown at it and like Oliver Twist has come back asking for more. That lens covers the majority focal lengths I often use, and also it has the bonus of having a manual aperture ring which lets me use it on both my digital and analog camera.

5. When you go out to shoot, do you take any essential items other than a camera and lens?

6. Among the photography gear that you’ve purchased, is there something you wish you hadn’t bought? Why?

That’s hard to say. As I said, gear is not the most important part. One will always end up with gear that one regrets buying. Unless one has the chance to rent every bit one needs in advance you need to take chances on things and hope they solve your problem. But if I should say one thing it has to be aluminium tripod and not saving up for a carbon one right away. 

7. What are your favourite settings?

8. What kind of tools do you use for post-processing? What’s your workflow like?

I use Photo Mechanic for import and sorting plus to add IPTC data for my images. After I finish in Photo Mechanic I move the images into Capture One. Since Capture One has the option to use both Sessions and Catalog, I first move the images from my import folder into a Session that’s named by year and which sit in the overall hierarchy based on the main subject. For a more specific job/shoot I use a Session name for that job/shoot. 

After I have moved the images into a Session folder I start a more detailed culling process where I find the keepers I want to work on further. From there I cull them further into what will be my limited edition prints and what will end up as my stock/regular print editions. For concrete jobs/shoots I only cull my images into selects and output them from that specific Session. I cull my images by star ratings and use colour tags to denote if an image is finished or not. 

Once the culling process is done I broadly tweak the RAW-files in Capture One. I only focus on getting the image closest to how I want it to look and then I export them into TIFF master files which I then finish in Photoshop and NIK Software. Also I don’t do my dust removal in Capture One. Photoshop is a far superior engine for that job.

Once I get the image into Photoshop I first start with the dust removal before I move on to the final edits. After dust removal I move into different NIK Software plug-ins depending on what the final output will be. Most often I start in Color Efex where I work the colour aspect of the image. I further tweak my edit from Capture One here. If the final image is gonna be a colour image, this is where I leave editing the image and move to clean it up if needed before I call it done.

If I’ve decided that the image is a black and white I move onto Silver Efex. In Silver Efex I work on the image as if I was to work on it in an analog darkroom. To go into specific details here regarding each slider would make this section a book. So I leave this for something I might write about in the future. After I’ve developed the image to where Silver Efex can’t help me any more I revert back to Photoshop where I do my final retouching. Removing parts that don’t support the image as a whole. This is something I would have burned in if I were to do it analog or that I would employ traditional retouching to remove. 

When I view the image as done I flatten the layers and save it as TIFF-file. I flatten the layers because I regard my image as a print, and I will not do any further edits to that version besides going back to do some minor cleaning that I might have overlooked earlier.

9. Out of all your photos, which one is your favourite? Why?

10. Whose work has influenced you most?

First and foremost I have to say Ansel Adams and Joe Cornish. Both of these have influenced me the most, but they are not the only ones. Over the years others have also influenced and inspired me. W. Eugene Smith is one that is not a landscape photographer but who also had a great influence on my work. Mainly his use of light and contrast. In the later years I find that photographers like Ben Horne have influenced me. Not so much in terms of technique but in ways to approach the scene and how he works with his subject matter. 

Beside purely photographic influences I’m also very inspired by the Norwegian national romantic painters of the 19th century. Painters like J.C Dahl, Hans Gude, Thomas Fearnley, Theodor Kittelsen, August Cappelen, and Lars Hertervig. This has very much to do with my national identity and my love for Norwegian nature. 

[thebeautyoffanfics]

Helloooo o(^▽^)o

Can I request Teru headcanons where his s/o purposely ignores him for the whole day just for a prank? And then just to make it worse, they start hanging out with Akane. I’d love to see how things would turn out (ﾉ´∀｀*)ﾉ

Thank you. Also, your writing is beautiful as always <3

teru minamoto x gn!reader

a/n: hihi!! of course of course, this is a really cute prompt- you’re so very welcome, and thank you so much for both the compliment and requesting!! it genuinely means a lot <33

Also, I realized it’s formatted like headcanons, but it’s written kind of like a oneshot ahhhhh,,,,, i hope thats alright;;

warnings: none <3

word count: 877

To say he’s confused is a bit of an understatement.

Don’t get him wrong, he trusts you wholeheartedly- but this behavior is… weird. You usually at least tell him good morning? But, when he greeted you, you barely glanced at him, instead rushing ahead to your seats. Still, he figured maybe you weren’t feeling well, and sat down, not wanting to provoke you.

But, that behavior continued throughout the day. He stopped by your desk at the end of homeroom, offering to take your books as he often did. Yet, you stood up, taking them yourself, and walking ahead of him out of the classroom.

If “???” was an expression, Teru was wearing it.

So, he figured maybe he did something to upset you. He’d have to figure out what, but he decided that he’d leave you to yourself until lunch. Who knows, maybe you were just feeling sick? Sometimes talking to people was draining, so you probably pushed yourself a little too hard… right? No big deal, haha.

Mmmmm, but it was a big deal- you never ignored him like that- though calm on the outside, internally he was going over every little conversation and interaction the two of you had recently. He couldn’t pinpoint anything wrong, so he just thought harder. Putting himself in your perspective- did he do anything weird? Different? Or were you just sick of him-?? Please, (Y/N), you’re gonna drive this boy crazy-

A class or two passed before he attempted to approach you again. Teru stepped next to you in the hall, offering to take your books once more. You continued to ignore him, holding your books so that he couldn’t grab them.

“(Y/N)? Are you feeling alright?”

You didn’t give in, of course! Even after he asked such a sweet question, you kept your glance straight ahead, not even glancing at him from your peripheral. Teru’s grip tightened on his books a bit, as he tried harder to figure out what was wrong. Were you really mad at him? He was so deep in thought, he felt a bit surprised when you showed someone some interest- you walked up to Akane, waving slightly as you did so.

Mmmm Extra Confused + Slightly Upset Teru has been: Activated!!

He stared at the two of you, glaring at Akane when he greeted you. You laughed lightly, walking with Akane into the classroom as the bell rang. Teru, though tempted to follow the two of you, made his way to his next class. Still, as the class seemed to drag slower than it had before, Teru was uncharacteristically distracted, pondering why you greeted Akane of all people.

By lunch, he was growing more and more antsy, ready to pester you (calmly) about what he had done to deserve the cold shoulder. He grabbed his lunch, walking to the spot where the two of you normally had lunch. You weren’t there, he should have figured, so he made his way to the lunchroom. He opened the door, scanning the room, then spotting you. You and someone else-

???????????????????

(Y/N) with Akane????? Again-???? Was this still just a coincidence??

Who cared? You were his s/o, and Akane was some underclassman. Oh man, he’s about to kill a supernatural, no regards towards the others in the lunchroom-

No, no- he trusted you, he trusted you. Did he trust Akane though?

Nope! And that’s the reason he took you by the arm, grabbing your lunch with his free hand, and making his way out of the lunchroom. He sent Akane a glare over his shoulder, and you were probably lucky to not have seen Teru’s expression, because Akane’s was enough to tell you that it was not friendly.

Teru brought you to the spot where the two of you usually ate, set your lunch down, then set his down, and looked over at you. You did your best to not laugh at his concerned expression, as he inhaled, placing his hands on his legs as he exhaled.

“(Y/N), I trust you. But, please, if I did something wrong, tell me.”

You finally lost it, laughing and leaning forward, placing your head against his shoulder as you did so. Teru’s lovely “???” expression only grew, as he tried to figure out what on earth was funny about this.

“(Y/N)?”

“I’m sorry Teru, it was just a prank,” You laughed, sitting back up and grabbing your fork.

Teru sighed, placing a hand on his chest in relief, causing you to laugh once again. “Ahhh, laugh all you want, but I thought you were mad! Akane isn’t better to hang out with than I am, right? No, don’t answer that- it’s obvious, but- I really thought I did something wrong!”

“Or that I was cheating with Akane?”

“I’d never accuse you of that, but- no. No way, I don’t even want to think about that. You’d never, and Akane would be a dead man.”

You continued to laugh, shovelling some food into your mouth. Teru finally chuckled a bit, opening his lunch box, and offering you some. But! Be prepared, because he’s going to be slightly extra clingy. I guess you can consider yourself lucky though, because that’s the most gullible you’ll probably ever have the oldest Minamoto.

[fleeting-sanity]

Vacation

[ Previous Entry ] ≈ [ Read @ AO3 ] ≈ [ Chapter Index ]

Thinking back on how busy her husband was even during the trip, and how empty he looked when doing his duties made her almost act on her idea of a date with him. But Rian’s  development into a bright and energetic boy shifted her focus towards her son instead. He was becoming a handful to both parents, in a good way.

Still, she’d sprinkle in little tokens of appreciation and affection for the husband. His favorite food, favorite tune, and presenting the most favorable results in each of her missions. Albeit cold, he was receptive to the efforts. Eventually, the days grew closer to the planned family day. Jaesa held a meeting with Riornivo once again to discuss further plans.

“Everyone I asked has agreed to come. Some of them are bringing gifts for Rian!”

“Well, if that’s how it is I’m sure his birthday will be extravagant!” Jaesa quipped, to which Riornivo cheerfully agreed.

“Wait, is his birthday soon?”

“Oh, not for another three months. Don’t worry, I’m just joking about the birthday.”

“No it’s alright, we can definitely make his birthday extra special. The ones who have met Rian would definitely agree.”

The boy with such high regards entered Rionnic's office with a somber expression. Rionnic immediately dropped whatever work he was doing and asked about it, while placing a consoling hand on Rian’s back. Before the boy could answer, Jaesa entered the room.

“I… I lost a sparring match today...” revealed the young padawan.

“Are you hurt?” To which the padawan denied. Only his pride was damaged.

“That’s what matters. Nobody loses or wins in a sparring match, good Sir.”

While some might say that Rionnic’s stance on sparring was quite out of character considering his background as a Sith, his sense of fatherhood was stronger than that. His statement however, didn’t quite reassure his son. The mother knelt and offered her own advice. “I agree. What matters is the experience and lesson you gained from it. There’s only improvement moving forward.”

The pouting on the boy’s face decreased. His eyes slowly darted around his smiling parents, which ended up in a dramatic sigh coming out of his mouth. Rionnic smirked at that. “Winning is a little… overdone. Adapting around losses and obstacles is what strong people do.”

Somehow, the last sentence resonated with the padawan. He nodded weakly as Rionnic raked his dark brown hair. “I come bearing great news! We’ll be meeting the big family tomorrow!” as Jaesa clapped her hands gently, successfully stealing Rian’s attention.

The next morning was fair and pleasant. Seeing the camping equipment already packaged quickly excited Rian. After finishing his breakfast, he and Jaesa were met with aunt Ria and uncle Rio as they departed Odessen to their destination planet, Rishi.

"Where's father? Is he coming?"

"Of course he is. He'll meet us there, he just has some work he needs to do real quick!” assured Jaesa as the shuttle jumped to hyperspeed seconds later. It took a few minutes to arrive in Rishi’s orbit. Seeing the waterfalls and rock formations of the planet as they approached the surface made the boy’s eyes sparkle. Imagine the gems or unique rocks he could find! His enthusiasm was reciprocated by the equally energetic aunt as they hyped each other.

As soon as they stepped out of the shuttle, the fresh tropical air calmed the shared excitement between the nephew and aunt a little. Jaesa discussed the coordinates of the camping spot with Riornivo, confirming the route to get there. They chose a small clearing near a waterfall with as little clutter and wildlife as possible. Both for safety and for not disturbing the animals. The pirates were no longer a concern by that time.

While on the journey there on the slower skiff, Rian kept exclaiming about the mineral deposits he would point out, which warmed uncle Rio’s heart for reminding him of his late mother. The archeologist in her was fully alive through the grandson.

Rian couldn’t wait to act out on his burning desire to explore the caves to find those rocks. But seeing the adults set up camp and cleaning around the site made him recall his Jedi training of always offering help. Not long after that, an elderly couple arrived at their coordinates, hugging Jaesa, then eagerly approached him. “Oh my goodness. He’s already so big!”

“Last time I saw him, he was just learning how to walk!” announced the elderly husband.

The lady cupped his little face, eyes misty upon stroking his hair. Jaesa proudly introduced her parents. "This is grandpa Gregor and grandma Parvin! They've been wanting to see you for so long."

Gregor produced a little gift from his pocket: a handheld metal detector. When asked about what he was holding, Gregor gave a chuckling answer. He then happily thanked his grandfather. Parvin brought some homemade cookies to go along with Jaesa's cooking. The grandparents wasted no time getting to know Rian better, despite his awkward responses.

Minutes later, Rionnic finally arrived with his uncle Enzaran and cousin Eniriva. It looked like they had done something laborious as apparent on their faces. Upon seeing his father, Rian's eyes lit up as he dashed towards the Sith for a hug. "Father!! You're here!"

All of the weariness instantly disappeared once Rionnic saw how enthusiastically his precious son greeted him. He buried his head on Rian’s dark brown hair and tentatively kissed his forehead. “I’m sorry I’m late. I promise to do better next time.”

“It’s only been an hour!”

However, his smile quickly dissipated once he realized that Jaesa’s parents were in attendance. Reluctantly, he approached them as Enzaran and Eniriva introduced themselves to his son. “Woah, there’s a third twin! Hello there, young Knight!” saluted Enzaran. Rian immediately took a liking to the old spacer.

“Gregor. Parvin.”

The elder couple’s expressions were unreadable, but Gregor held out a hand to his son-in-law. Nervously, Rionnic shook his hand. It was awkward–in the back of his mind he wondered if his in-laws knew the truth behind Jaesa’s disappearance all along. Twice he asked them about her in all those years, receiving vague answers. But there's no time for those thoughts; that day was supposed to be relaxing and fun for Rian's sake. Then another thing caught him off-guard in a glimpse.

The redness of her lips. Jaesa was always barefaced, being the natural beauty she was. But a simple change of color made him weak. Those walls were crumbling faster than he could fix them. He finally shook away his stare, hoping that his wife didn't notice.

As the morning progressed, the lack of interaction between Rionnic and Jaesa was apparent. None of them dared to bring attention to it but their son. The boy sheepishly stood between his parents and proceeded to hold both of their arms, asking sweetly: "Can we go to the caves? I want to see those rocks."

Such a strange request if it were any other child. Both parents wanted to agree but what about the rest of the guests? "Don't worry, we'll be fine here," stated Riornivo while stirring his stew. "Be careful out there."

"Well good Sir, we can go but we should be back before lunch. Is that reasonable?" Rionnic bargained, which was accepted.

And off the little family go to explore the few nearest caves. There were not many gems to be found unlike the caves in Odessen and Ossus. However, the little geologist managed to identify some mineral deposits and even found some exonium--a nice souvenir from Rishi. In one particularly large cave, a sudden whiff of hot but foul air caught the family off guard. Then it blew again.

"F-Father?"

"Shhh… let's lay low and stay quiet," as Rionnic identified the source of the hot air: a sleeping krayt dragon. Jaesa's hand was hovering above her lightsaber as the three of them hid behind a large boulder. Dust began to fly around as the dragon shifted in her sleep.

"Wh-what is it? Father?"

"It's uh… a krayt dragon."

"I wanna see it!" whispered Rian excitedly.

Rionnic shook his head, but was defeated by Rian's pout. He agreed to a quick peek as he lifted his son up. The padawan marveled at the sight of the humongous creature, barred by just enough distance to fully observe and escape. The father fastened his grip on his son, then began to step away as lightly as possible with the mother closely behind. They made it out safely without stirring the sleeping dragon.

"Phew… we should head back to camp, it's time for lunch."

No contest from either father nor son to that. The spelunking had left them quite hungry. Once they arrived, Rian excitedly blabbered about his discoveries. The rest of the family were baffled when the boy got to the dragon encounter, but they were glad the little family escaped unscathed. Jaesa shifted the scene towards lunch as the food invited their appetite through the aroma.

After they were done eating, it was back to awkward socializing mainly from Rionnic's perspective. Everyone else seemed cordial and relaxed around each other. He knew that they noticed the coldness towards his wife, but he was not about to cave into the societal pressure of a make-believe romance. An hour passed with minimal activity.

Until Rian suggested a game of hide and seek.

"Whoever wants to participate, raise your hands!" exclaimed the little padawan. Some of them did, while the elders stayed behind with Eniriva guarding the camp. Whoever was up first was determined by a makeshift draw using fallen twigs. It was aunt Vyria.

Using a blindfold on Vyria to secure the no-peeking rule, every participant hid and did their best to remain silent. Vyria took a good while to find everyone, the last being Enzaran. The old captain remarked how his line of work made him an expert in hiding. Next up was Rian, and he took even longer to find everyone. Rionnic’s bias led him to make a mistake on purpose by cracking a few branches to make it easier for his son. It was finally his turn to don the blindfold.

Except he never took it off.

Vyria, who was hiding nearby, asked why didn’t her brother take the blindfold off. It was a simple yet predictable mistake. Rionnic didn’t let this blunder go to waste and quickly grabbed her. “To make it easier for me,” gloated the Sith.

“This is unfair. It’s outrageous! Why did you have to make me the FIRST to–ugh, whatever!” Vyria sulked, realizing that it was her own fault that led to this outcome. Rionnic then continued to wander around aimlessly, becoming an amusing sight for the rest of his family. He then nonchalantly bluffed; “Hmm. This is harder than I expected.” He was sure he heard a faint giggling nearby as his head whipped towards the direction it came from. It spooked his son, but what happened next changed everyone’s mood from amused to tense.

The Sith suddenly changed direction and sprinted towards a tree, delivering a semi-flying kick to it. Like a fallen fruit, Enzaran was knocked off balance and fell from his hiding place, cushioned by the bushes below. “But how?!”

“Are you hurt?”

“Naahh… I guess it’s one of your powers… thingy… isn’t it?” as Enzaran folded his arms, wishing he had embraced his own Force sensitivity instead of turning away from it. The rest who were still hiding grimaced, knowing it was just time until they lost to Rionnic’s psychometric proficiency. They unanimously agreed that he did not need the blindfold at all. The Sith then walked towards the middle of a small glade, ducking down to search for a stone.

Then he threw it at his twin.

“Ow! Wh-that’s not-” blabbered Riornivo, rubbing the back of his shoulder. “Oh well. Guess he found me,” as the Jedi moved away from his hiding place, defeated.

The last one left was his precious son. He already knew where the padawan was hiding, approaching him with a smile and a greeting. But Rian darted away, shouting for his father to catch him. Rionnic gleefully gave chase. He made another show of running off-track thanks to the lack of vision, which made Rian laugh. It was the happiest Rionnic had ever been. Eventually he caught his son with an exuberant lift to the air, with their laughs echoing around. Catching his breath, Rionnic finally removed the blindfold.

“What? You still have to find mother. Did you forget?”

Somehow, Rian’s statement planted a little doubt in him for reasons unknown. Regardless of how he felt, his son’s wishes were his command. Blindfolded again, he continued the search albeit nervously. His senses led him towards a riverbank. His wandering hands accidentally landed on Jaesa’s hair as his wife was crouching down, fetching some water. It surprised them both–Rionnic quickly removed his blindfold while Jaesa stood up but the rock decided to be slippery, causing her to stumble back. Her husband swiftly caught and pulled her close.

With barely any distance between them, it took Rionnic everything to not run his fingers on those red lips like he did all those years ago.

He abashedly released her, flustered and anxious. Jaesa only smiled while asking; “What is it? Need help?”

“It’s-it’s Rian’s order… of me, um, finding you. H-hide and seek?” blabbered Rionnic, just like his twin before. He glanced to his left and saw Rian and Vyria giggling to each other while pointing at him, then both shared a high-five. “Oh, but I didn’t participate. I had to clean the camp with Eni.”

The Sith frowned, realizing that he just got pranked by his sister and son.

“I’m glad you’re having fun. I hope this helps you relax a little.” added Jaesa as she carried the water bucket back to camp. He stood there still, mulling about what just happened and the parting remark from his wife.

He couldn’t stop emphasizing in his mind on how beautiful Jaesa was.

[turnaroundroundround]

Morimyu in Classical reference

So, as for the fact that music in Morimyu Op. 3 resembles classical music in both progression and musical technicality, it's interesting how it's possible to keep coming up with different interpretations after re-watching the musical again and again.

I've made a thread on twitter about this before, but 1) word limitations and thread will never be enough to list all that I have to say lol 2) I'd prefer to have a fuller version noted down, especially one that I can edit and keep coming back over and over again when ever I come up with something new.

Either way, I am still (lol) not a pro in music theory and music history as well. All that is written here are based on my very very basic knowledge on music as well as something that I've picked up (and discussed) with my friends after watching Op. 3.

What's the point of this?

Why is it important? Lol I always need this to keep myself from writing off-topic but anyways. Why do the music sound good (except for the fact that because it does lol), and what do they represent? Surely there must be, and there always are, other things that are implied not only through the lyrics but also the music, and the flow in general.

Apart from the lyrics and the lines, it's also quite interesting to have a close look at the music - melody and harmony itself - to see how they portray the stories.

Most importantly, the continuality. How did Morimyu manage to insert so many songs and still managing to connect them as a whole? And how did they use music to go beyond what's on the pages? That's the most important thing about musicals - beyond the pages. We don't see stage or anime doing so very often, as they mainly focus on what's already there, bringing them to life as close as possible to how we imagine things might happen.

As for musical, they have the music. They have the arias and the songs. At some point, a character starts singing, and other characters followed suit. They have their very unique way of expressing the plot, and they have the orchestra, the arias where characters get their solo song, and the duets between characters with strong relationships, and the ensemble which emphasizes the plot, and so on.

A funny thing about duets in classical opera, they're often meant to show lovers' relationship because of the harmony but can also use opposition and all to show enemies' relationship. And in SherLiam's duet it's just both of them at the same time - thoughts connected while engaging in a chase, a hide and seek game of mystery. We'll go into that later.

Back to the topic. Morimyu follows the main plot strictly, but also uses their advantage with music to add all the side details that wasn't told in the manga to create a "complete" view of the plot. It is always available for musicals to do something unexpected (like how we never expected Lestrade's puppet show to be a whole 5 mins long piece lol). And where they did that they added arias and duets, they allowed moments where characters express and developed their emotions as well as going with the plan (yes Albert yessss). Of course there's both a good and bad side to this all the while.

💛 The good thing is they went all the way to show us sides of emotions that we don't see much in the manga or stage, the sides of the story that all of them have kept hidden while focusing on their grand plan. 💛 But then it does get too emotional at some point, especially those who came for the plot and the mind games behind all of it (like me - although I won't deny that I had a lot of fun picking out all the emotions behind the music here lol).

Musicals can always go beyond what we knew. As for Morimyu, their music is heavily influenced by opera and classical music, and it's shown quite clear. There is live music playing (instead of the entire orchestra we have a violin and piano duet), and they have distinctive arias and recitatives throughout.

So thanks to that, it's also possible to use a reference from classical music to interpret their songs.

A Sonata formation - The Narrative Series of SherLiam

Yes, songs arranged and analysed with reference to a Sonata formation, especially in the way they progress through the play.

Some notes before getting into the point

1 - Sonata = a piece of music consisting of several movements - very often 3, sometimes 4. First movement-Allegro: With the quick tempo, introducing the theme of the entire Sonata Second movement-Adagio/Largo: Slow tempo, can be emotional sometimes, as well as leading more towards the final movement Third movement-Rondo Vivace: The ending, quick-paced and vigorous, leading the Sonata to a close. A Sonata always has a general theme, a topic. The theme that I chose to write about is Mystery - the Hide and Seek game between the Detective and Lord of Crime

2 - Aria and Recitative = different types of songs used in an opera Recitative: Lines within a song that happens like a real conversation, as the characters sing they are also talking to each other Aria: A solo section where everything else is a freeze frame, while one actor remains and sing their own song about their thoughts, feelings, etc. In this post we're mainly discussing the arias of Sherlock and Liam, and the duet between them. But there's also some mention of recitatives here and there.

3 - Videos used To make it easier to understand which songs I'm talking about, I also arranged them in piano. And also to have a listen at how they might connect. Just in case the videos beneath don't work (they didn't work on my phone), the three songs discussed are Nazo, Liam's solo, Kokoro no Rondo, all piano arrangements.

All of the songs noted in this section are arias and duets from Op. 3 - the Ghost of the Whitechapel. The additional "series" that Morimyu has added spreading throughout the play, Sherlock and Liam's narratives, which portrays both their emotions and the chase between the detective and the Lord of Crime.

First Movement - Allegro: Nazo(謎) song

Starting from Lestrade's exit after his puppetshow and proceed to the scene, Sherlock's aria introduces the theme of the imaginary hide and seek game that the Lord of Crime has started. The song repeats the word (mystery) over and over again with a continuous rhythm.

Ends with Sherlock just mumbling the word Nazo (mystery) and exiting the stage - no conclusions, just like a mystery that leads into further mysteries with no answer.

♛♛♛ In regards to a Sonata formation, this is the beginning of the entire piece. Quick in tempo, written in 3/4 time and introduces the theme of the entire piece - Mystery.

Uso ka Shinjitsu ka - Lie or Truth song

Starting after Sherlock learns the truth behind Jack the Ripper, wondering if Lord of Crime is a good person after all.

Now I had a really hard time thinking whether this piece should be included or not. For one, it's not an aria. It can be viewed as a Da capo Aria, a development section of the Nazo song, repeating the theme that is introduced, coming and going rather quickly. So, for continuality.

It also does not fit into the series as a whole, being 1) a recitative. The lyrics focus entirely on Sherlock's deduction and whether he should expose the truth or not, etc. so on. 2) The lines in here, unlike the other arias, are taken directly from the manga, so it's not entirely an 'added' element to this chase. 3) Also because if we compare this to a Sonata form, this doesn't really fit anywhere

However, among Sherlock's arias, this song can also be seen as an interesting development as I have mentioned above, so I've decided to have it here, still.

There's another thing about almost all of Sherlock's arias throughout the 2 stages - they never have a conclusive end. The detective's mind is always running, mysteries after mysteries.

Most of the other characters' songs ends with some kind of closing lines, and piano continues to conclude the piece with a strong end, and then goes on to start another piece. All of their problems in the songs are concluded. They made up their minds in some ways.

But Sherlock, his songs always end with him repeating the melody, a capella, and exiting the stage. Piano waits for him to exit, then starts a new song. Or in Op. 2's Mindgame case going straight into the next conversation. We never get to know how Sherlock's songs end, because they didn't really end at those points. There's a hanging sense of waiting for a resolution, a conclusion. Sherlock never seems to have his problems solved within the songs, they just go on and on.

An idea initiates, then something happens and he is once again in the dark. And he spins around within his own mind.

Screenshot from Op. 2. Even if we look back to his aria Mindgames from Op. 2, this song doesn't really have a conclusive ending as well. He just starts singing, the music stops and he starts shooting and going on, resuming the play. It kind of has been a thing for Sherlock's arias?

Second Movement - Adagio/Largo: Liam's solo

♛♛♛ The "second movement" - the 'slower' piece - of the series, Liam's aria lol but actually the piano part of this song isn't slow at all but ok. The other side of this hide and seek game. The "development" section of the sonata series, where we see things in a much more emotional way.

This aria is much richer in harmony and melody. Not only Liam's melody, but also the piano's part which plays a beautiful melody in harmony.

I recall an interview where the stage director mentions how the "orchestra" - piano and violin are representations for Liam and Sherlock. It kind of applies here, where his music is created mostly by piano.

There is modulation, emotions rising and elevating quickly and strongly. But the harmony is beautiful, overflowing and rich with emotions. The song repeats certain lines, emphasizing aspects within Liam's thoughts.

Unlike Sherlock's train of thoughts that circles with no destination, Liam's solo has a definite ending in harmony -> Even with all his emotions in mind, Liam still has a goal already set before him. He has a brief moment of slowing down, pausing and sung about his feeling, before resuming the story.

Leading us to the final stage - Kokoro no Rondo.

Third Movement - Rondo Vivace: Kokoro no Rondo

Rondo formation: Rondo is a type of dance that revolves around a pattern, often ABA, ABACA, or ABACABA - where A is the ritournello ("meguri - kimi ni omou - meguru kokoro no rondo" section) that is repeated over and over with B, C parts in between. Rondo can also be combined with sonata form - this case applies to this song which begins with a key other than the tonic (Fm) before resolving to the tonic key (Fm) to put an end to the entire sonata series. For reference purposes, the last movement of Beethoven's Pathetique or the very typical Fur Elise is also written in a similar format. I also referred to Pathetique quite a lot when brainstorming this post.

♛♛♛ The "final movement" of this Sonata, the final scene of their "Hide and Seek" game. The song's tempo is vibrant and rapid, combining with the dancing sense, all the while strictly following the structure of a Rondo as mentioned above.

This is the stage where Liam and Sherlock's line interacts and reply to each other, as if in a real conversation - just like how the connection between them are now much stronger than what they had before.

In the ritournello, we have Liam and Sherlock's lines intertwining and chasing after one another, emphasizing the "Hide and Seek" element between the two of them.

The song comes to a definite ending, concluding with a strong tonic (Fm) chord. At this stage, there is no more question to be left open, for Sherlock at this point has already made up his mind to take the next step into solving the mysteries regarding the Lord of Crime.

Their imaginary game of Hide and Seek is coming to an end, as Sherlock came to a decision to take the next step - going to Durham.

That's the end of my first draft.

So far that is some of my thoughts noted down right after watching Op. 3 stream a while ago, with some edition made just now.

On the side note, at some point during my discussion with a friend, we also came up with the idea that a Suite may be a better reference. A Suite consists of 4 parts and a prelude, each of them having their specific characteristic. But we didn't go all the way analysing that idea, as 1) we couldn't find a 5th piece that can be added into the series. 2) Even if we did, the Truth or Lie song still would not really fit into the "aria" vibe of this series, as mentioned above.

But then quite interestingly, after a while, I've found another interesting fact that should have been quite obvious but I've missed for (lol) like ages.

The game of Hide and Seek between the detective and the Lord of Crime has begun ever since after Hope's case - that being said, ever since the end of Op. 1

And what is it that we have in Op. 2? "The Mind games of the Lord of Crime". The one where Sherlock went maniac rapping about all the thoughts he has and end up shooting randomly into the wall.

At first it begins like another recitative, but in the later half, the harmony starts to become more harmonious, written in 3/4 time flowing like a dance.

In that section, the melody of the piano and violin part resembles the one we have in Kokoro no Rondo, the Ritournello section, only that the melody of the violin in Op. 2 and the melody that SherLiam sung in Op. 3 are kind of reversed.

Coincidence much?

So now we have a collection of songs from both Opus, it becomes tricky. How do we connect them? And what's the story?

At this point, all these recitatives, aria and duets all in the theme of the Hide and Seek game. And they all connect to each other through harmony, progressions in harmony.

We know that the Mind games of the Lord of Crime has begun from ever since the end of Op. 1. We know that Sherlock keeps wondering about that in Op. 2, and then he wonders even further after he has been tested by the Lord of Crime. "また俺だけのメ��セージなのか?" - Is this a message just for me?, as he wondered in the Truth or Lie song. We knew all of that. But Morimyu didn't let that stop them from emphasizing on this subplot even further.

They didn't let the gap between Op. 2 and Op. 3 stop them from making a smooth flow in plot either.

Correction, they didn't simply create a flow. They established a connection, all the while showing a strong progression of Sherlock's thoughts that goes on from Op. 2 straight onto Op. 3.

Very often, what makes a good plot is how their plots and sub-plots intertwine with each other. Morimyu has a main plot that follows Moriarty gang in the plan of changing society. And they have a smaller plot told from Sherlock's side of things. And they have this sub-plot told by harmony of how Sherlock is connected to Liam, or the Lord of Crime, by an invisible thread. A connection that is only expressed that clearly in Morimyu.

We have so many things going on, so many songs throughout the play. But each of those elements are all connected to something else, creating a sub-plot that enriches the main plot.

There is no loose connections. For everything that connects to the main plot, they're also linked to other elements. Each scene and every song has their own meaning not only in regards to other songs, but also to the plot as a whole.

Also, did I mention how Morimyu feels like a grand piece of music?

Opus -> What classical songs had that basically shows the order in which they are written. Morimyu - a title piece itself - has 3 Opus, 3 different parts with the same theme.

Classical music very often had all the different elements in it -> Morimyu had an overture, the song they sing just before the main theme song, just before introducing the stage. Then arias, ensembles and choruses. All of them are connected by similar harmony.

Classical music always had a big general theme, with each section having a smaller sequence connecting to each other. Subplots within a big plots. A Sonata piece has 3 movements, each having their own "sections" of development - expositions, development, recapitulation. -> Morimyu does the same to their plot and subplots, as discussed above.

Also, Opera reference

While Opus 2 used an opera reference to tell the story, I feel like Opus 3 has become an Opera itself. During Op. 2 the arias were mostly very loyal to the manga, taking their lines from the original work, like the Mind Games song. Their story progresses steadily but logically.

However starting from Op. 3, the aria became more independent. They developed and expressed even further what wasn't said in the manga. For instance, the 3 songs mentioned in the "Sonata" above. And there's also Albert's solo, and Patterson's solo and Milverton, which I haven't got the chance to discuss all.

But either way, they spring out of the original story, adding more emotions and "colours" to the characters. The aria became more original, all the while also much more expressive. We get to see new sides of the characters that we haven't seen anywhere before.

Anyways, it's probably time to go back to the main question: How Morimyu used music to go beyond what's on the pages.

-> Musicals aren't simply about music added to acting. The characters on stage don't just simply starts singing for no reason. All the songs are meant to express something, and while they do they also establish various connections to the plot's progression.

We don't get to see much of the characters' emotions in the manga. And we don't see much of the side story, the finer details behind each arc. Every time, Morimyu adds something original to enrich their plot. They express and develop what's already known to all the viewers, especially regarding the emotional and motivational side of the characters.

-> The manga shows us the entire plot, with details related, back stories that lead to the present, and all. But it doesn't give a lot of hint into how characters might feel. Surely, reading between the lines, it's up to the readers to interpret them.

But Morimyu gives us all of that, and they leave it to us to read between the music.

And even if we didn't, that's fine. Then the purpose of all of them linking together would be to create a performance where everything is connected harmoniously, allowing us to be emerged in the world of Yuumori.

-> The purpose of having a stage, primarily, is to allow the audience to engage in, experience and feel the emotions along with the characters they see on stage. The point of having a live stage, a plot, and the music, are all to let us emphasize with the characters on stage.

In Morimyu, we aren't just watching a plot between our favourite characters happening as we know it from the manga. We see a combination of mysteries unveiling slowly, the stories on the side of each characters as they slowly progress forward, as well as emphasising with their emotions in the story.

That's what I really like about Morimyu.

So, WHAT'S THE POINT OF THIS?

So I had to scroll back to the top (lol) to quote this and make sure I haven't gone too far from the main theme.

Regarding musical Yuumori, there's always so many things I'd like to talk about. And if I start going on about it then it only gets harder to focus on one single topic.

Since the topic here is Morimyu and their music, especially in classical reference, I've tried to keep everything I've discussed relevant. But whenever I start on something, there would always be something that comes to mind. Like how other songs might also have certain connections, or how they used stage directions and lightings, etc. I really want to look more into stage directions in Morimyu as well, but that would have to wait...

Anyways, I tried to keep this as simple as possible. When I sent the first version of this to my friends, I keep having the feeling that I got too technical with all the theories about harmony and structure lol

And once again, this is only some of my own interpretation of the series that I've picked up.

If something else came to mind... well. Either way, for the purpose of engaging in their wonderful music or for the purpose of watching a beautiful stage just for enjoyment, Morimyu definitely is worth watching. And to watch over and over again. I've said this for Op. 2 but I'll say this ten times as much for Op. 3. Truly magnificent.

And, that's pretty much it that I have for today, I guess.

Thanks a lot to all my friends who gave me lots of inspiration and motivation to complete this ヽ(・∀・)ﾉ Lots of love to @rikaaki as well ヽ(・∀・)ﾉ

[robininthelabyrinth]

Polyphonic - ao3 or tumblr pt 1

“Meet me on the Qiongqi Path if you want to talk,” the return letter from Wei Wuxian said, cold and distant, and so Lan Qiren went, grumbling the entire time.

He was far too old for this sort of nonsense. For all that his sword was named after the soaring of the heart, a memento of all his lost dreams, he didn’t actually fly on Xinfei all that much – after all, he was not a traveler, he did not go places. He remained home.

But for his nephew’s sake…

Lan Qiren did not take anyone with him when he went, not wanting to burden anyone else with his worries and concerns and unwilling to share them; instead, he took only his sword and his guqin on his back, as if he were Lan Wangji going out on a night-hunt.

It occurred to him as he flew towards the Qiongqi Path that that probably meant that his opinion on Wei Wuxian was not so dire as all that. It was nowhere within his expectations that Wei Wuxian would attack him, as if he were some sort of ravening dog. Lan Qiren knew himself well enough to know that if he truly thought that of Wei Wuxian, he wouldn’t have asked him for help in the first place.

That still didn’t mean he thought it was a good idea for Lan Wangji to associate with him.

Nor did it mean he had to make things easy for him.

“Wei Wuxian,” he bellowed in his best disappointed teacher’s voice when he saw the man, dropping lightly from the sky as he did, and had the pleasure of seeing the Yiling Patriarch jump a chi into the air and try to hide behind his Ghost General. Who then also attempted to hide behind him, leading to a rather amusing panicked shoving match of juvenile desperation to get away from an imminent scolding.

It was complimentary, if a little ridiculous. If either of them wanted to hurt him, he’d be dead so quickly that he wouldn’t even know what killed him.

“I see that I failed to teach you etiquette as well as ethics,” Lan Qiren said ponderously, accompanying his words with one of his better glares and waving the letter he had received at Wei Wuxian – he’d been shoved out in front after all. “Is this all the respect you think I am due as your teacher? A single sentence without any salutation? Summoning me to come to your side like a lapdog?”

“I didn’t think the letter was really from you!” Wei Wuxian squeaked. To judge by his expression, it appeared that he was in fact acquainted with shame, only that it had been a long time and the acquaintance had been very slight. “I thought – a prank – someone mimicking your signature –”

“Oh, we’re in trouble now,” the Ghost General murmured in a voice so soft it might have been missed, if only Lan Qiren’s ears were not quite so sharp.

Sharp enough, in fact, to hear how Wei Wuxian’s song, always a spritely thing, had grown a little slower, a little more sober, but not nearly as twisted and disharmonious as he would have expected from the stories he had heard about him. Wei Wuxian’s heart still sang free and clear, idealistic and well-meaning even if he was a little too wild, and Lan Qiren was reassured that he had come to the right person.

Wei Wuxian might be a bit of a madman, choosing demonic cultivation and defying the cultivation world as he did, making all the terrible choices that he had, but he was still a good person.

He would help.

The Ghost General, on the other hand, was in turns soft and gentle and rough and discordant, the rippling flow of his melody torn through with harsh and jagged trills like a clenching bleeding hand dragged along guqin strings, like a dying breath choked into a qiao, thick with the resentment of the unquiet dead – Lan Qiren would have to keep an eye on him.

Some classes on the subject of restraint and moderation would not go amiss, he thought, falling instinctively into analysis. That would help bring together the two sides of that personality, to soften the vicious rage and strengthen the too-weak tune…

Lan Qiren huffed, shaking his head at his own foolishness. It was too easy to slide back into the role of teacher, no matter how strange the environs – it had been a long time since he had left home, he thought, even for a night-hunt, and old habits were difficult to abandon. This trip, barely started, was already wearing on him.

He flicked his sleeve, folding his hands behind him, and began to walk in the direction of Lanling.

“Wait, your letter…did you say you wanted my help with something?” Wei Wuxian asked, his eyes wide as saucers as he hurried to catch up and fall into step behind him. “I…me? Really?”

“Yes,” Lan Qiren said. “The concern is of a musical nature, and there are reasons I could not ask Wangji. You are an excellent musical cultivator. Will you assist?”

“Of course, teacher,” Wei Wuxian said automatically, and Lan Qiren smiled, pleased. “A teacher for a day, a father for a lifetime – it’s the least I can do. Only, uh, as I’m sure you know, that is…my reputation…”

“I’m aware of it.”

“Then you see why I thought your letter was a fake, don’t you? If I go to Gusu, who knows how they’d respond to seeing me – no, I do know, I know exactly what would happen. They’d lock me up!”

“Not if you were my guest,” Lan Qiren said firmly. He had that much influence in the sect, he thought, after all those years of faithful service – and in the end if they did refuse to give him any face and insist on locking Wei Wuxian up, what then? Who would they turn to in order to find the music that might heal him from his purported madness, if not Lan Qiren himself? “I would ensure that you would be free to leave as you wished.”

“Even if it’s Hanguang-jun that wants to force me to stay?” Wei Wuxian asked, a challenge in his voice.

“Have you ever heard of He Kexin?” Lan Qiren asked, and Wei Wuxian blinked and shook his head. “I wouldn’t have expected you to. A criminal of my generation, guilty of the premeditated murder of an honored teacher of the Lan sect and sentenced to indefinite confinement within the Cloud Recesses. She ultimately died when Wangji was quite young, and it affected him deeply – if you think he would force you to stay anywhere against your wishes, you have fundamentally misunderstood my nephew.”

Wei Wuxian was silent for a moment, absorbing that, and then said, “Premeditated murder of an honored teacher, huh? Is that a warning for me?”

“Is that a serious question, or are you merely curious to know if you are too old for me to smack you?” Lan Qiren asked, frowning. “The answer in either case is no.”

The Ghost General’s sleeves were all in tatters, but that didn’t stop him from trying to use them to muffle his laughter. He seemed to be enjoying his master’s misfortune.

Assuming Wei Wuxian actually was his master. There was definitely a bond of some sort there between the two of them, more intertwined than friends, less harmonious than lovers, not as echoing as that between swordsman and his spiritual weapon; Lan Qiren couldn’t quite put his finger on it. A friendship underpinned by life debts running both ways, perhaps.

Lan Qiren was unable to resist: he turned abruptly and pinned the Ghost General with a dour look. “Would you like to contribute to this discussion?”

Fierce corpses could not pale, but it seemed that they could make a facial expression that suggested they had. “No, honored teacher,” the Ghost General said, stuttering a little. “Sorry, honored teacher.”

He had once been a poor student, Lan Qiren concluded, and had the fear of teachers firmly implanted in him.

“Hmm,” he said, and then, because he could, “Name the three most commonly encountered types of ghosts.”

The Ghost General looked like he was about to faint. “I – I – I wasn’t expecting a quiz –”

“…are you teasing him?” Wei Wuxian asked, looking a bit like he was going to faint himself.

Lan Qiren shook his head, because he wasn’t, not really – or perhaps more accurately, not entirely. It was certainly part of the reason, but there was more to it than that.

Poor students often had preconceived notions of what teachers were like and were so concerned with their fears that they were unable to focus on the facts before them. In such cases, it was better to give into their assumptions in the first instance, scaring them but also showing them that their fears were insubstantial and could not harm them – for instance, that the dreaded pop quiz would not actually cause them any trouble even if they should fail to answer. Only then was it finally possible to shift over into the actual business of educating them.

It was also, admittedly, rather fun.

“I would be willing to take you as a student,” he said to the Ghost General, whose jaw dropped. “When the present business is done, and if Wei Wuxian can spare you. It would be to your benefit.”

“I – I – I –”

“Perhaps we should table the discussion for now,” Wei Wuxian said quickly, blinking rapidly as if he were attempting to wake himself from a dream. “Honored teacher, what is it that you want me to help with? You said the problem you were having is musical in nature?” His eyes brightened. “An ancient treatise, perhaps..?”

“An investigation,” Lan Qiren said, but noted to himself that it seemed that Wei Wuxian enjoyed the prospect of abstract research. Perhaps they could encourage him to do that instead of whatever it was he was doing with demonic cultivation – it wouldn’t make him an acceptable match for Lan Wangji, but in the event Lan Wangji lost all reason and insisted on the match the way his father had, it might be a good way to blunt Wei Wuxian’s edges and make him more acceptable to the rest of the world. It was much more difficult to be afraid of an eccentric academic than a slaughtering war machine.

Not that Lan Qiren would be conceding defeat so easily, mind you.

“An investigation? Really? Regarding what?”

“Attempted murder,” Lan Qiren said.

“Attempted –” Wei Wuxian’s jaw dropped. “You said it was a musical issue!”

“It is.” Lan Qiren heard the whisper of distant bells, small and tinkling, and stopped walking with a frown.

Swordsmen flying in formation? Here? In this deserted place, where people came only to pass through?

“Did you arrange to meet anyone else?” he asked Wei Wuxian, who frowned in turn.

“Anyone else? No, of course not,” he said. “I mean, even with you, I wasn’t actually expecting someone to show up –”

The Ghost General abruptly moved, a burst of action, and caught an arrow headed straight for Wei Wuxian’s chest.

“Wei Wuxian!” someone roared, and Lan Qiren frowned: now that was an unpleasant sound. Self-absorbed and haughty, as many were, but without valor or etiquette or even courtesy to mitigate it; the dull and vapid piping sound of someone who bullied the weak but feared the strong, and worsened by an underlying sound of something like a guqin string breaking off while playing. The latter wasn’t a personality defect, but an external cause – but what could cause something like that?

The individual in question, it turned out, was Jin Zixun, he noted, his frown deepening. Jin Guangshan’s nephew, yet not one who had been sent to the Cloud Recesses for Lan Qiren to smarten up, whether due to bad timing or his own disinterest. He hadn’t much liked the boy during the few times he had encountered him at discussion conferences, and seeing him for the first time in a while, he didn’t think much of the man he’d become, either.

Jin Zixun was accompanied by a moderately large retinue of Jin retainers, as well as representatives from some other sects, although no major ones. Mostly ones affiliated with the Jin, from what he recalled.

“Wei Wuxian!” Jin Zixun shouted again, and Wei Wuxian was about to speak, an impertinent smirk curling onto his lips. He stopped when Lan Qiren waved him silent. “Lift the curse you’ve placed on me right now and maybe I’ll let you off!”

A curse? That would explain the sound of the breaking guqin string, the external music that did not fit, but of course Wei Wuxian was a flutist, not a guqin player; it wouldn’t have been his work.

(Truly, even though there was no rule that said ‘let stupid men speak freely and you will learn everything you wish to know’, there probably ought to be.)

“What are you talking about?” Wei Wuxian asked, looking bored. “What curse?”

“You’re still pretending you don’t know? Look at this! Look what you’ve done to me!”

Jin Zixun pulled open his shirt, revealing his chest, and Lan Qiren’s lip curled in disgusted.

The Hundred Holes curse – that was an interesting choice. That required a particular type of bitterness to cast, being both nasty, brutal and slow in a way suggestive of a personal grudge and yet, to not inform the victim of who was the caster? That was distant, anonymous, faceless. Impersonal.

Wei Wuxian denied casting the curse, naturally, and Jin Zixun began threatening to kill him, telling him he wasn’t welcome at Jin Ling’s first month celebration, and now Wei Wuixan looked enraged, was reaching for his flute –

“Enough!” Lan Qiren thundered, and everyone turned to look at him. Jin Zixun mouthed his name in shock, clearly not having noticed him before in his singular focus on Wei Wuxian. “You have presented no proof of Wei Wuxian’s ill intent towards you, nor are you in charge of the invitations to the event in question. You will either produce your proof at once, or else retreat.”

Jin Zixun did neither, unsurprisingly. “What proof do I need?! No one else has such as vicious character as he, and everyone knows that we confronted each other! He hates me! Who else would it be but him?”

“If he wished to kill you, why would he use an anonymous curse rather than simply tear you to pieces with a fierce corpse or summon ghosts to harass you, the way he killed throughout the Sunshot Campaign?” Lan Qiren demanded, irritated as much by the stupidity on display as by the delay. “You cannot kill a man simply based on an assumption of which you are unsure.”

“I am sure! And the proof will be in the act. Once he dies, the curse will lift!” Jin Zixun suddenly grinned, teeth glinting. “And if we’re asking questions, I have one myself: why are you here, honored teacher? Here in the middle of nowhere, without anyone else from the Lan sect beside you – one might almost think that you were conspiring…”

Lan Qiren scoffed.

“For someone as upright and righteous as the honored Teacher Lan to speak in the Yiling Patriarch’s defense is impossible,” one of the retainers shouted. “He’s been bewitched! Wei Wuxian lured him here to kill him!”

“Ridiculous!” Lan Qiren spat.

“Give us one good reason why you’re here, then!” Jin Zixun demanded. “If you’re not here to meet Wei Wuxian!”

“Of course I’m here to meet Wei Wuxian,” Lan Qiren said impatiently, flicking his sleeve and thinking that he would need to have a talk with Jin Guangshan regarding his nephew’s insolence. He would not tolerate such blatant disrespect. “I wrote him a letter inviting him to the Cloud Recesses so that I could discuss some matters with him, and he responded by setting this as the meeting place instead. I agreed, and so came here.”

“What matters would you need to discuss with him?” one of the other cultivators demanded – one of the Ouyang collateral branch that had split from the main family in the previous generation, it looked like, probably out to try to steal some glory. “Honored Teacher Lan, you must explain yourself!”

Oh, Lan Qiren would be having a talk with several people over this.

Still, as much as he would like to stand on his dignity and refuse to answer, that would only lead to more questions. It would inflame tempers and exacerbate the situation, turning this stupid little dispute into the horrible dissonant cacophony of battle.

“Among other matters, I intended to dissuade him from pursuing a marriage with one of my sect,” he said, raising his chin. The Wall of Discipline said Do not tell lies, but a lifetime of practicing the sort of diplomacy necessary to run a sect had taught him that Do not use frivolous words was an adequate counter: sometimes, the best way to avoid an uncomfortable situation was to tell only the relevant part of the truth.

Or, as the rules put it: Speak meagerly, for excess words will only bring harm.

These wastrels did not need to know about the investigation, confidential as it was, and so he could share the portion of his intended discussion which was not.

Several of the crowd were gaping at him, Jin Zixun included, and Wei Wuxian beside him said in a strangled voice, “Marriage?”

“I was going to raise it with you before we were interrupted,” Lan Qiren told him. “I mean no insult by it, but I truly do not believe you to be an appropriate match.”

Wei Wuxian nodded dumbly.

“This is ridiculous,” Jin Zixun suddenly snapped, interjecting himself into the conversation, such as it was. “Lies, all of it, and you think we’d believe – mm!”

He clutched at his face, presumably appalled at being silenced as if it wasn’t exactly what he deserved for such an affront. Except of course he couldn’t leave it at that, gesturing wildly, and all the Jin retainers began to move, pulling out their swords and lifting their bows in readiness.

Wei Wuxian put Chenqing to his lips and issued a single drawn-out note.

Nothing happened.

“They cleared the path of any corpses,” Wei Wuxian hissed, his eyes suddenly reddening with rage. “This was prepared in advance. An ambush! They were never going to let me go to Jin Ling’s first month ceremony…Wen Ning, I’m going to need to use you. Ready, on my count, and – mm!”

Lan Qiren had silenced him as well.

“You will do no such thing,” he said icily, thinking to himself that perhaps he really ought to have insisted on keeping Wei Wuxian at the Cloud Recesses for longer than he had, despite the boy’s disastrous brand of nonsense. It was as if he had never heard of consequences – if Wei Wuxian so much as raised a blade to a single one of these men, the Jin sect would be calling for his head. Forget setting the Ghost General on them! “I will handle this.”

“You?” the Ghost General blurted out. “But - honored teacher…”

Lan Qiren was not, had never been, much of a fighter. He had been confined to the Cloud Recesses in his youth due to being sickly, and in his adulthood due to his brother’s choices; his experience was limited and insufficient. He had lifted both blade and guqin against the Wen sect when they came to burn his home, doing what little he could, and they had beaten him so badly that his heart and lungs had been permanently injured - to this day, he coughed up blood if he became overly emotional, and over-straining himself could lead him to start bleeding from all the qiqiao.

The doctors had warned him that it was not a wound that would ever be likely to heal.

And yet – as the rules of his sect said – with a strong will, anything can be achieved.

Lan Qiren drew his guqin in a single practiced motion and put his hand on the strings.

“Do you intend to fight me?” he asked, listening to the clamor of music from the hearts of the men in front of him. The ones with truly martial or aggressive beats were few and far between: if he needed to, he would target them first, and without their informal leaders, the resolve of the remainder would crumble, and they would flee.

But – he did not think he would need to.

“You can’t attack the honored Teacher Lan!” the Ghost General cried out, clearly appalled by the very thought of it. “You can’t – you just can’t!”

Lan Qiren looked at the young men in front of him, many of whom were frozen in indecision.

“Wei Wuxian may be a rogue cultivator, without even his corpses to aid him,” he reminded them. “But I represent the Lan sect, and it stands behind me. If you attack me now, even if you were to succeed and kill me, there would be an investigation; if there is an investigation, your actions will be discovered; if your actions are discovered, my Lan sect will demand vengeance from which not one of you will escape. You, and your families as well. Or do you believe that my Lan sect will not go to war for me?”

And not only the Lan sect. Lan Qiren might not be much of a fighter, he might never had become the traveling musician he had once dreamed of being, but he was a teacher – a teacher for a day, a father for a lifetime, and his students were scattered throughout the sects, throughout the cultivation world.

Perhaps some of them would stand by in silence, disregarding their filial duty to laugh at his demise.

More, he thought, would raise up their swords for him.

It seemed the Jin retainers thought the same, because no matter how violently Jin Zixun gestured, they did not make any move to attack.

“What’s going on here?!” another voice came at that moment, the low qiao of the steadfast lover – Jin Zixuan, settled at last, grown up and happy. Well, usually happy; at the moment he was clearly horrified. “Are you – are you attacking honored Teacher Lan?! What is wrong with you all? Are you trying to start another war?!”

“They came to ambush Wei Wuxian,” Lan Qiren said, not putting away his guqin just yet. “I was under the impression he was your invited guest, Jin-gongzi. Was that incorrect?”

“It is not,” Jin Zixuan said, and he knocked aside the flailing Jin Zixun’s hand, the one with the sword. “He is invited, and A-Li is waiting for him at Jinlin Tower right now. I knew nothing about any of this – Wei Wuxian, forgive my cousin, and forgive me for not having realized that he’d do something like this. I will make it up to you when we get back home, I promise.”

Wei Wuxian’s mouth worked briefly, and Lan Qiren snapped the silencing spell he’d put on him with a thought.

“Thanks,” Wei Wuxian said, shooting him a look that seemed to contain questions. Lan Qiren assumed the questions related to his judgment of Jin Zixuan’s sincerity, and so he nodded his approval. “It’s – uh – fine, I suppose? It’s not like he succeeded even he did plan this out in advance, even going so far as to get rid of all the corpses to try to trap me…but know this! If honored Teacher Lan wasn’t here, I wouldn’t be nearly so forgiving!”

Or mute. Wei Wuxian had a mouth made for provoking people, just like his mother…why in the world did Lan Wangji have to like him so much?

“Of course,” Jin Zixuan said quickly. “Honored Teacher Lan, you will also come with us, won’t you? You can complete your conversation with Wei Wuxian at Jinlin Tower, and I’m certain your nephews will be pleased to see you…”

Lan Qiren huffed. “I am not so old and doddering as to need to be watched at every moment,” he said, knowing his tone betrayed his tetchiness – all entirely unfeigned, but it would still be helpful if everyone thought that his solo excursion had been merely a symptom of irritation at how he’d been incessantly pestered in his slow recovery. “Very well, we will return with you. Someone will need to carry Wei Wuxian and his ghost general, however, as I note that he has once again failed to bring his sword.”

“I didn’t think I’d need it,” Wei Wuxian drawled. “It seemed an odd accoutrement for a first moon party, but then again perhaps I should have anticipated the ambush?”

Jin Zixuan looked around, realizing that the only people here that could perform the escort were either himself and Lan Qiren or else participants in the ambush. “Honored Teacher Lan,” he said, looking a little panicked. “Forgive my impertinence, but could I ask you…?”

“I’ll ride with honored Teacher Lan,” Wei Wuxian announced, his tone grandiose and extremely irritating. Arrogant little brat. “Provided that you take Wen Ning, Jin-gongzi. After all, honored Teacher Lan still needs to talk to me about how he doesn’t want me to marry someone from his sect.”

Lan Qiren sighed. “It’s for your own good as well, you know,” he told Wei Wuxian even as Jin Zixuan attempted to swallow his own tongue in shock. “Our sect follows our sect rules no matter where we are, marrying in or out, and do so for our whole lives. Is that something you would be willing to tolerate?”

Wei Wuxian grinned at him, his expression – and the cheerful crescendos and upbeat lilt of his song, very nearly back to being as lively as they had been in his youth – suggesting that he was not as dissuaded as might have been hoped.

A few more moments and they all rearranged themselves, taking to the air. It was a little strange: the Ghost General, Wen Ning, rode in front of Jin Zixuan in the more vulnerable position, and because he was nearly the same height as Jin Zixuan their heads kept knocking together by accident, while Lan Qiren pointedly took the lead position as well. A sign of trust, and also recognition that he was a half-head shorter than his erstwhile student.

As they flew through the air, Wei Wuxian put his chin on Lan Qiren’s shoulder. “And there’s also that attempted murder you want me to help you with,” he murmured, voice low. “Reputation or not, ability or not, I will help you as much as I can, honored Teacher Lan, however I can…anything I can do, I will do. Thank you for trusting in me.”

Lan Qiren snorted. “What are you talking about?”

“The curse on Jin Zixun. You didn’t believe him when he said I did it.”

“That’s not trust, but logic,” Lan Qiren said scornfully. “The person who sent that curse plays the guqin, not the flute. How could it have been you?”

It was strange, though. A curse, spiritual poison, and both by guqin players – it was not an uncommon instrument to use, but to wield it with such skill that the instrument became an innate part of the player’s residual spiritual qi, the way the Lan sect taught its disciples to do…?

Lan Xichen didn’t like Lan Wangji’s crush on Wei Wuxian any more than Lan Qiren did, he thought to himself, even if he had encouraged it in their youth – but that had been before Wei Wuxian had turned to his dark and crooked path, and before Lan Wangji had demonstrated signs that he was unwilling to turn away from him despite it. Even more than Lan Qiren, Lan Xichen feared his brother following in their father’s footsteps, in damning himself for a lover who didn’t deserve him, feared that Wei Wuxian would shatter his beloved Lan Wangji’s fragile heart into a million pieces and more…

Still, a curse? The Hundred Holes, no less? His nephew?

A few days earlier, Lan Qiren would have said it was impossible. But then, a few days earlier, he would have said that it would be impossible for Lan Xichen’s lover to be poisoned through a spiritual song that, as far as Lan Qiren knew, only Lan Xichen and those he had personally trained had ever used on him.

Lan Qiren did not understand, and what little he did, he didn’t like.

Still, he had the marginal satisfaction that his initial mission had been accomplished, however uncomfortable the journey might have been – Wei Wuxian had agreed to assist him in his investigation. If he could only get the man alone long enough to explain the issue, they could even start looking into it at once, at the first month party in Jinlin Tower, which everyone in the cultivation world would attend.

They would discover the truth.

And when they did…

Let it not be Xichen, Lan Qiren thought. Let it be anyone else, no matter what – just not him.

I don’t know what I’d do if it were him.

[cerberusdailynews]

[PEOPLE] Interview with an Ardat-Yakshi

By Cil M’riste, freelance storyteller xposted to Freelance News, Cerberus Daily News, The Watch, and 14 others The Ardat-Yakshi condition is one of our oldest myths. One that is largely presumed to be legend by a large portion of the galaxy’s population. The term “ardat-yakshi” appears in fantasy books, in extranet games, and even in extranet RP forums. But what is the condition, and what is the myth? Most people will never even meet those with the underpinning medical issue. But I happened to get a chance to sit down with someone with the condition, to get her thoughts on a few issues facing people like herself. I myself am not a doctor, nor any legal scholar. So any information provided by this interview can only be taken as a small view into a larger issue. They are the opinions and lived experiences of but one person living with the condition. The rest of the article will be presented in a Q/A format, with a set of final thoughts from myself. Cil (C): "Hi, Nara. It's nice to meet you! Thanks for doing this. How was the trip here?" Nara (N): "Um... nice to meet you too, Cil, my job is to pilot a freighter between here and Palaven, so I make this trip a lot. This time it was a little slower than usual. You'd think traffic jams wouldn't be a thing in three-dimensional space, but with the amount of starship traffic around the Citadel, that's not always true. But I assume you're not here to interview me about my trip. You're here to interview me because I'm an Ardat-Yakshi. Well... Ask away." C:"Oh, no. While that’s true, that it's not what we came here for, I'm not aiming to rush you. But if you'd like to get into it, certainly. Let's see…" N: "Yeah, I'd like to get the tough questions out of the way sooner, I've been stressed out about this interview for like the whole day, and once we get those out of the way it'll be a huge load off my back." C: “Well, for starters. All most of us know about Ar- about those with your condition is that they are... well, extremely controlled, to put it mildly. Most of that knowledge comes from vids and games and all manner of fictional sources, so I don't even know if that's actually part of their thing, but for the sake of asking... Have you ever had an encounter with a Justicar?" N: "I can neither confirm nor deny that, unfortunately. Damn it. Uhhhhh... some of it, but not all of it, will probably be declassified in like fifty years or something. If we're both still around then, I can answer that question. But I think this is the only question that would run into that problem, so feel free to ask anything else you want." C:"So if there's something to declassify that insinuates, at least in my view, at least a tip to the scales in the 'yes' direction. But we'll move on, for sure. Hopefully this one is a little more easily answered. Now, as I understand it, for obvious reasons you've spent your life outside of the Asari Republics entirely. What has life been like for you living away from the traditional asari space?" N: "That... is quite a broad question, you could get a whole interview out of that, if you wanted. But if you want a short answer... On Palaven, especially in the city I grew up in, there weren't very many asari. I spent my whole childhood trying to fit in with my turian neighbors, and I didn't really have other asari to interact with other than my parents. When I became an adult, I enlisted to join the Turian military, where I stayed for most of my life so far, then retired to the reserves several years ago. I ended up having to become a cabalist since I was a biotic, like almost all asari are. There was only one other asari in my cabal though, and we didn't really get along much. First deployment was to Irune, which was pretty peaceful. Also met my wife there, so it made up for having to wear an exosuit all the time. Second deployment was to Solregit, which was... not peaceful. There was a rebellion on the planet's northern hemisphere that wanted to secede from the Hierarchy, which I'm sure you've heard about before. And, of course, I helped defend Palaven during the Reaper War. If there's anything you'd like me to go into more detail about, ask away." C:"Wife? Can you explain how that happened? Were they aware of...everything?" [Nara showed me some pictures here] N:"We met through an online dating service, actually. I stated up-front in my profile that my condition made it impossible for me to meld with anyone, or... be intimate in a way that could risk me accidentally melding with them. But Jin wasn't really interested in either of those things, so we were both happy together in spite of that. I think I have some wedding photos in my omnitool I can show you. That's her. That's Jin. And that's me next to her, but it's hard to tell it's me because the suit obscures my face." C:"Awwww. Those are lovely pictures. Many of us in our maiden stage don't settle down so easily. Do you think living in a mostly turian area growing up influenced your desire to commit to someone that early? And if you don't mind another question to move us along... You seem relatively outspoken about your condition. Is there a reason you feel the need to take what most people would likely consider the risky position of putting yourself and your condition out there without secrecy?" N: "To answer your first question, I would say yes, absolutely. Most of my turian peers, those who did settle down, at least, tended to do so in their thirties. I was thirty-eight years old when I married Jin, which is a little above average for a turian but I found out later that it was like, crazy low for an asari. Your second question is kind of complicated because I have multiple reasons. Firstly, and most importantly, is that somebody needs to speak out. If any of the Ardat-Yakshi in the Republics tried to do an interview like this, they'd be killed or locked up by Justicars or by the government or an angry mob of other asari. I'm still worried sometimes that they'll try and do that to me anyway, even though I've never been to asari space, and if it's a justicar I don't stand any chance of winning a one-on-one fight with one. I have a responsibility to speak up for those who can't speak for themselves, while I still can. Secondly, I'm from the Hierarchy and Turian culture places a very very strong value on honesty. Directly lying about my condition would go against everything I stand for. Thirdly, if what I say informs people about Ardat-Yakshi, it lessens the risk of other Ardat-Yakshi accidentally or, though I'm sad to say it, intentionally injuring or killing innocent people. If even one life is saved, even if I get killed, speaking up will have been worth it. Lastly, though this isn't that important since it only affects my personal life, but I am really, really, annoyed by stereotypes about asari promiscuity and especially asari maiden promiscuity. Letting it be known that I can't sleep with anyone because it could kill them cuts down on unwanted propositioning by, like, ninety percent." C: "Thank you… Those answers definitely shed some light on why you're willing to be rather public about these things. It's a good goal, wanting less people to be hurt. The idea of informing others actually leads quite nicely into my next question. I'm fairly certain I know the answer to this one- But are there any big myths that are simply false, or incomplete information that you think people should know the truth about?" N: "Well, to start things off, basically everything in stuff like Galaxy of Fantasy is wrong. We don't have magic powers, we can't resurrect the dead, et cetera. Most of these should be fairly obviously false, so I'm not going to spend that much time on them because otherwise I'd have to spend all day ranting about stuff like that one human I met who claimed I was somehow a real-life vampire or something. I get so many vampire comparisons. It's annoying. Ardat-yakshi aren't vampires. There's like, no connection at all. Anyway, to get back on track, there's one very important myth I would like to dispel. The ardat-yakshi medical condition is actually a spectrum. The lethal variant of the condition, which I have, is very very rare, but there are other variants that aren't lethal, and are much more common. At the mildest and most common end you have people who just give their meld partners temporary headaches, though most people with this variant don't actually know that what they have is technically a variant of the ardat-yakshi disease, and the Republics don't persecute them like they do with people like me. However, they're still infertile, just like anyone else on the A-Y spectrum. Further along the spectrum, the condition gets bad enough that each meld basically gives the ardat-yakshi's meld partner a concussion, and then even further along the spectrum comes permanent brain damage from each meld, and some ardat-yakshi can even leave their partners comatose in extreme cases. Or dead." C:"Thank you for your answers. I can't imagine it's easy to talk about some of this, given the way the disorder is regarded. Now that we've discussed things that are false, what are some true things you wished other people knew about it?" N: "Well, melding is actually addictive for Ardat-Yakshi, just as the Republics and Justicars say it is. I'm not exactly sure how addictive it is, since at the time of my only meld, which was before I knew I was an Ardat-Yakshi of course, I was already trying to fight off an Aurora addiction. I'm not sure what withdrawal effects were from that and what were from the meld, but it's definitely possible to fight off the addiction. Secondly, Ardat-Yakshi serial killers, though I would like to emphasize that they are very, very rare and are in no way representative of the average A-Y sufferer, do actually exist. They normally don't get very far in the Republics proper, since an autopsy can reveal how the victims died and you can test suspects for the Ardat-Yakshi medical condition. But outside asari space, people don't know how to actually catch the serial killers because the Republics keep trying to suppress information about Ardat-Yakshi, and the serial killers can amass staggering body counts because of that. The Republics would seemingly let hundreds of innocent people die to... um... avoid making themselves look bad or something? I'm actually kind of confused as to why they don't just tell everyone the truth for once." C: "Hm. That makes sense. But what about asari colonies, or even nations with asari majority or pluralities? Surely the condition can occur in them as well? Even if the Republics are, as you say, loath to reveal the truth, surely someone out there has been doing research too? That's just a thought though, I don't actually expect you to know what groups or nations all across the Terminus might be doing." N:"As far as I know, the condition, well, the forms of the condition severe enough to be dangerous, anyway, is rare enough that research isn't prioritized, especially since A-Y is basically a pureblood exclusive disease and asari colonies outside the Republics tend to have fewer purebloods." C:"Well, I have two more questions planned, so we're really scooting along here. Thank you again for sitting down with me. Let's see... Are there any mistakes you've made in your efforts to spread awareness for this condition?" N:"Well, with the fact that so few Ardat-Yakshi are able to speak openly about their conditions, when I talk to people about this, I'm basically the only Ardat-Yakshi that most people ever know about. Since I'm their only reference point, I worry that people will take my flaws and apply them to everyone with the condition. I admit, I'm not the best figurehead. I'm a convicted criminal, albeit for something I don't want to discuss here. I'm a veteran of a, to put it mildly, controversial war on Solregit. And I don't get along with people sometimes, along with other various personality flaws. But there are Ardat-Yakshi who are better people than I am. They simply never got the chance to speak out, like I do. One more question, and then I have to get back to my ship." C:"Of course, I don't want to take up too much of your time. I only had one last one planned anyway." Well we've spoken about many aspects of the situation as-it-is. What, to you, would a more just policy look like in the Republics?" N: "To put it simply, equality under the law. No preemptive targeting of Ardat-Yakshi based on what we might do, with the monasteries as a strictly voluntary institution. Ardat-Yakshi who have knowingly hurt or murdered people should still be arrested, like any other criminal. Ardat-Yakshi who do not harm others should be treated the same as anyone else. All I ask is that you judge each of us by our own actions, not the actions of others." C:"A fine answer. One I think the vast majority of people can empathize with. I understand. You probably have a schedule to keep. But it's been a pleasure getting to know you some, Nara. I look forward to writing this up." With the interview concluded, I walked away with a few different feelings. I entered the conversation a little nervously. I had no more special knowledge of the AY condition than any other asari out there. Since I’m not a doctor I can’t speak to the accuracy of any of the medical specific claims my guest made. But I felt that her desire to make more information known was genuine. During the conversation there were certainly no feelings of threat or manipulation that I picked up on. And I sympathize greatly with the idea of wanting to be treated the same as everyone else. It was a very interesting conversation; and one that opens a window into a phenomena that is very rarely covered in anything but fiction. I hope you enjoyed the small look into the world of Ardat-Yakshi as much as I enjoyed bringing it to you.

[theuniversitychallengereview]

UC 50 Grand Final - Warwick vs Magdalene, Cam

In the world of sports a Grand Final is defined as ‘a game that decides a sport’s league’s premiership (or championship) winning team, i.e. the conclusive game of a finals (or play-off) series’. It is most commonly used in Australian sports and is synonymous with the championship game in North American Sports - e.g. the NBA Finals or the Superbowl. British rugby league adopted the term for its season ending affair in 1998.

The commonality between all of these examples is that the Grand Final comes at the end of a league tournament, after which some number of the highest ranking teams take part in a knockout tournament to determine the season champion. Even with its complicated quarter-final format, University Challenge is a knockout tournament from the start, with no semblance of a league at any point. There does exist the possibility that the finalists could have played each other prior to meeting in the final, as has happened this year with Warwick beating Magdalene 200-160 in the quarters, but that hasn’t always been the case. 

All of this is just to say that in the case of University Challenge, the use of ‘grand’ seems to be purely adjectival rather than providing supplemental information regarding the competition format as it does in these other cases. Not that I’m going to quibble with it, tonight’s final is undoubtedly going to be Grand.

For the second year in a row, after six consecutive appearances by various colleges, we have no Oxford team in the final. The two finalists certainly had something to say in that matter, with Warwick dispatching two Oxonian quartets - Wolfson and Merton - and Magdalene three - University, Corpus Christi and Balliol. Warwick won the whole thing in 2007, beating the reigning champions from Manchester, while Magdalene’s sole apperance in the Grand Final was a loss to Sidney Sussex back in 1978.

Warwick arrive in the Grand Final as slight favourites, courtesy of the unbeaten run that took them there, including their aforementioned defeat of tonight’s Cantabrigian opponents. Their average score of 201 is actually slightly lower than Magdalene’s 202, but they hadn’t looked troubled until their semi-final against Imperial. 

Magdalene have produced two of the most impressive performances of the series, beating Birkbeck 240-140 in the quarters and annihilating Balliol 270-50 in the semis, and (stats taken from @StatsUC on Twitter) rank first of all teams in bonus question percentage, correctly answering 128, or 71%, of the 170, they have faced thus far. Warwick have an inferior percentage of 59%, but rank higher on the starter question league table (Magdalene have averaged more of those too, though with a lower percentage, suggesting that Warwick have been involved in slower matches).

Another interesting statistic is that Magdalene Captain Lawson, with six, has twice as many incorrect interruptions as the entire Warwick team so far. He is Magdalene’s best buzzer, and will likely have to take some risks to overcome Warwick’s superiority in that respect. If these risks pay off, and he is able to steal a few starter questions early on, I think Magdalene will have a far bigger chance of taking home the trophy. The first set of questions pre-first picture round will be pivotal.

Whoever wins, or rather, has won, by the time you’re reading this, its been another terrific series of The Challenge. The fact that they weren’t able to get the filming done at the usual time because of Covid, and then had to come back in later to record most of the episodes with plastic screen dividers makes me even more grateful to have been able to watch the show this year. We all needed that slice of normality on a Monday night, and what could me more normal than watching a bunch of nerds answering questions about complex organic molecules or Byzantine emperors?

Anyway, that’s enough sappiness, here’s your first starter for ten...

Warwick’s Burrell is the only one who has put any effort into their Grand Final attire, and is rocking an awesome floral shirt. Lawson comes in early with love, but he is wrong, and my flowery boy Burrell scoops up the points with hell. Only one bonus follows, but they are twenty points clear courtesy of Lawson’s neg. 

Braid takes the second starter, and Rout remembers Burrell’s surname (which he had failed to do in the closing moments of their semi-final) to nominate him on two of the bonuses, of which they take three. The funky shirt must be providing Mr Burrell with some extra knowledge on top of the chilled out vibes, because he takes his second of the night. 

Magdalene manage to get off the mark with the first picture starter, and a full set on grid references takes them up to twenty points. No one gets a starter on cavitation, before Burrell grabs his third starter! He’d averaged 1.4 in their previous five games! 

There’s a second starter for Braid, before Rout wonders aloud whether ‘this is another example of us not knowing the popular culture’, in relation to a bonus set on vampire films. They miss Only Lovers Left Alive and A Girl Walks Home Alone At Night, but get Let The Right One In, so they’re not entirely ignorant. 

Davies snaffles some more points for Magdalene, and then both sides miss the music starter, before Davies takes another to win the music bonuses for Cambridge. They are only forty points behind now. Davies completes a hat-trick of consecutive starters with Fox and Hedgehog, based on a clue about Jemima Puddleduck. We’re down to twenty points...

Braid gets his third starter, before an excellent bit of flagwork from Byrne allows Magdalene to close to within ten points. A neg halts their momentum and Rout swoops in to drag Warwick forty clear again. Magdalene can’t afford any more slip ups, but Lawson isn’t able to identify a Titian painting on the second picture starter, allowing Braid in to steal. A couple of bonuses put Warwick sixty ahead, and one feels as though Magdalene may have missed their opportunity. 

In what could possibly be the most unfortunate incorrect interruption of all time, given the state of play in the match in which it occurred, Davies buzzes in with Bannerman Campbell rather than Campbell Bannerman, losing five points instead of gaining ten, and surely confirming Warwick as champions. It seems harsh, but in the end he was wrong, and he looks devastated.

Lawson buzzes frantically on the last starter of the year, and gets it right with a defiant shout of glucagon, but the gong sounds immediately afterwards, and Warwick have won.

Final Score: Warwick 195 - 140 Magdalene, Cam

Another fantastic match to end the series! Congratulations to Warwick on a flawless campaign, and commiserations to Magdalene, who were brilliant throughout as well. Like I said before, this has been another excellent series of UC, and has helped to keep me sane throughout the year. Roll on the next series...

The gap between the sides was 55 points, but this can be almost entirely attributed to the Campbell Bannerman Bannerman Campbell mixup. Warwick gained 20 points and Mags lost five. Had Davies got the names the right way round, and then the same two bonuses as Warwick the points swing would have been forty five. Not quite enough to turn the tide, but it would have been mighty close.

Thanks for reading this blog over the whole series. It means a lot that people continue to consume and engage with the silly ramblings I post, and I look forward to coming back for the new series, whenever that happens. 

In the meantime, if you enjoy what you read here and want to support the blog, or more importantly can’t wait a few months for some more UC content, I have a Patreon where I’ve been reviewing the 2015/16 series. You can sign up here, for as little as £1/month. 

[jqlgirl]

A Personal Message to the cEDH Community

Bona fides: I’m a Level 3 Magic judge and have been judging since 2009. I’ve judged tournaments of all formats and all levels from FNM to the Pro Tour. I understand how decks, formats, and metagames work and can absorb such information quickly. I’ve also been playing EDH since before it was called Commander and have been a member of the Commander Advisory Group since its inception last year.

So, let’s talk about cEDH and Flash in particular. While there have been calls to ban this card due to its cEDH implications since Protean Hulk’s unbanning in 2017, the furore has reached something of a desperate and fevered pitch in the weeks since Thassa’s Oracle was revealed. This anger redoubled this past monday when the Commander Rules Committee announced no changes to the Commander banlist in its quarterly update.

I understand the effect that Thassa’s Orcale will have on cEDH’s metagame when combined with Flash/Hulk combos. From everything I’ve heard, it puts the format in something of a solved state and reduces viable deck diversity down to a single combo that is virtually immune to interaction outside of Stifle and its ilk. It seems to me that the only matter that isn’t yet settled is if it’s better to use it with a Consultation package or a Cephalid Breakfast package. The correct answer is probably just to run both to ensure maximum flexibility.

At any rate, these FishHulk decks are going to make the format stale and no fun whatsoever. In any other format, this is beyond the pale of what would lead to a banning for competitive balance. However, Commander isn’t like other formats in that its banlist exists for a completely separate reason to that of competitive balance. Rather, the Commander banlist exists to attempt to set a baseline expectation of what is and isn’t acceptable in the format and to remove elements from the format that players at an average power level would be able to abuse to the detriment of those they play with.

Many RC and CAG members, myself included, sympathize with the concerns of the cEDH community in regards to Flash, Oracle, and its metagame issues in general. We have heard your concerns and have been in conversation with luminaries of the cEDH community almost continuously in the past few months. We understand the nature of the problem, but we have our own concerns about how making a ban solely for the benefit of cEDH players would be perceived by the broader community and if it would actually serve to “fix” that end of the format. We worry that it would just be a bandaid over a deeper wound and that we would all end up in the same position again in six months or a year. 

Additionally, while Flash may not see much casual play, there is nothing to say that recent printing of cards such as Arena Rector or Nyxbloom Ancient won’t lead to it seeing wider adoption in the community. While I’m personally of the opinion that Flash should be banned, that opinion isn’t universal among the RC and CAG, and many wish to be more cautious about making such a change. What if the next card to break cEDH is something like Sol Ring or Cyclonic Rift? Should such broadly played cards be banned for the sake of the competitive edge of the format? These are the questions we have been considering.

The one thing that is absolutely set in stone for the RC is that the banlist will never serve the purpose of attempting to regulate the format for tournament play. That isn’t what the format is meant to do and is antithetical to its goals. Magic is full of lots of other formats that revolve around tournaments and Commander is meant to be a haven away from the unfriendly elements of those events. (While many players enjoy these elements of the game, many others don’t and come to commander to get a break from them.)  In light of this, a ban for competitive balance isn’t likely to be allowed. Even if such bans did happen, they would reshape commander into a format unrecognizable to those who love it for the strange quasi-broken mess that it is right now.

As far as I’m concerned, there’s no clear answer to the problems that exist in cEDH right now. While a Flash ban would make this better for now, I feel like some other best strategy would emerge and lead to similar problems soon enough. I also don’t think that cEDH should split off from the rest of the Commander community to become its own format, as that isn’t something that the cEDH community wants.

To everyone in the cEDH community who is upset with the RC and CAG for seemingly not addressing these issues, I feel your pain and understand your anger. You fear the loss of something that you love and there seems to be nothing you can do about it. I would ask that you give us a modicum of your trust and understanding, however. Your voices aren’t being ignored and we have been doing nothing but considering these problems since before the announcement on Monday. The RC moves slowly, perhaps slower than it should, but achieving workable change takes time. I can promise you that I personally will do my utmost to continue listening to the cEDH community and sharing those concerns with the rest of the CAG and RC. I want to find a solution to this issue that will work for all of the EDH community, both casual and competitive.

If anyone wants to talk to me about this issues, you can reach me here on tumblr, on twitter (@jqlgirl) or on discord (JqlGirl#9431). Thank you for your time.

-- Charlotte Sable

[matteredloyaltyaa]

                                                       NAV.

                GOOGLE DOC (RULES/ABOUT/VERSES).

                                         PLOTTING FORM.                                             HEADCANONS.                                                   WISHLIST. 

Tumblr mobile friendly version of my rules under the read-more.

DISCLAIMER:

I do not claim to own or have created this character, though the headcanon posts you see here are of my own interpretation of this character and events. I am private and selective, meaning that I only write with mutuals (those who I follow and who follow me in return), and tend to watch who I follow back and/or write with for my own comfort. However, my askbox is open to everybody if you wish to talk to me or the character on this blog, but I may not answer everything put in there.

PASSWORDS:

Due to my social anxiety, I don't have a password in these rules, nor do I send them in. I read everybody's rules and pages before following and usually before interacting.

ACTIVITY:

This is my main blog, which means that I am on it most of the time. However, I do suffer from some mental disorders, namely anxiety, depression, and OCD. These tend to affect how I interact ooc and can make me overly distant sometimes, and it's usually nothing anybody has done to me but my own mind running off on it's own about things. So, I do apologize for that. I may be absent from blogs during bad periods or make a couple posts here and there that I always delete after an hour or two stating that I'm in a bad way. Everything will be tagged.

HIGH HONOR: 

Please note that I base my characterization off my raw play of this game, in which Arthur is HIGH HONOR and you may see more of that toward the end of his main verse. However, I still play him as a morally grey individual, especially as he’s trying to find his own mind on things in a way, but ultimately he leans more toward honorable moral choices (or what are considered honorable for the life he leads). He will do both good and bad things. At his point in time, I’m not exactly leaning towards adding a low honor verse, as his portrayal within the fandom has turned me off completely and after playing that route myself, I don’t really see much reason to. However, that may change if I end up finding a way to put a spin to that.

BLOG & PERSONAL TRIGGERS: 

Please note that I don't have many triggers myself outside of suicide and overly anxiety inducing content (jumpscares, purposely paranoia inducing posts, etc). 

There are some themes that I would like to avoid writing about in detail or at all. Namely, I WILL NOT write out anything like incest (the John/Arthur ship tends to fall into this category for me, along with Arthur/Dutch and Arthur/Hosea, so I will say that it's a NOTP for me), abuse (outside of mentions in regards to backstory, all forms), pedophilia, and rape. Also, I should note on a personal side that pregnancy can make me a little uncomfortable due to some gender stuff with me. I don't mind mentioning it, nor do I mind parental relationships when it comes to Arthur and sometimes outright adopting children in certain verses, but threads and interactions solely based off pregnancy can make me uncomfortable. It's difficult to explain but I would like to avoid it. Really, when in doubt, just ask.

This blog does and may contain triggering material, due to the nature of this game and the character. The biggest ones that will be present here are violence, guns/shooting, crime, and illness. I should also note that, due to the fact that this game takes place in 1899, there may be some triggers related to the views of this time period. Arthur himself is rather progressive and doesn't hold those views himself, but that doesn't mean the people around him don't and may be referenced in threads. Everything will be tagged as I catch it and where needed.

SPOILERS: 

This game has been out for at least a year now. I will not be tagging for spoilers anymore, so please follow or read at your own risk if you are working through the game for the first time.

WRITING, SPEED, and NSFW:

My general writing style is paragraph/paragraphs. I don't mind one-liners but I usually only reserve those for starters that I’m writing and I tend to expand on the length of those as I go. I format my posts, mostly just some minimal spacing, small text (not sub), and all-caps words, bold, and italic usage. If this bothers anybody or makes it hard to read, please let me know and I can continue our thread in a non-formatted way. I also use icons, but I will follow my partner's lead on iconless rps. I can also be a little long-winded with my replies but you aren't obligated to match that. As long as I don't get like three sentences back to five paragraphs, we're all good.

I'm a slow rper. It may take me a day or two to get around to things, both asks, threads, and messages. I don't mind a nudge here and there but if it feels like you're pressuring me, I will warn you and block if it continues.

I'm 24, the muse is 36 in his main verse. We are both over the age in regards to nsfw. Smut is kind of rare for me and I don't do it often on Tumblr, however if we're in a ship and you want to write that over Discord, I may be open to it. That said, too, I will ONLY write nsfw with people and muses who are OVER 18. There is no exception to this. That noted, too, Arthur's in his 30's so a massive age gap may not appeal to him much either.

SHIPPING: 

I’m going to sound like a hardass but: I am a highly selective shipper on here, and the ships that do appear on this blog are ones I have had for quite some time. Everything of a romantic nature will need to be discussed with me and the chemistry has to be there for me to agree to shipping. I’m not an insta-shipper, nor am I accepting to pre-established romantic relationships outside of those in canon. They will need to be discussed with me like every other ship and may be subject to me disagreeing to do it. Otherwise, I am multi-ship, despite being highly selective, and I’m fine with discussing them but please be aware of this.

FOLLOWING, DRAMA, AND DUPLICATES: 

I will usually give someone a day or two of active posting after following before I unfollow if I don't receive one back. I don't mean anything personal by that, I'm simply making sure I don't accidentally like or send anything in if we aren't mutuals. That said, too, I am selective with who I do follow. If you're a sideblog and you don't have that blog easily accessible on your main blog or you don't message me about it, I'm likely going to miss it. I don't follow rp blogs that are run more like personals if only to keep my dash slower. Also, generally, if our writing styles don't mesh, you're rude to me, or you post nasty things, I will likely unfollow/block/or not follow back.

I don’t interact with or reblog callout posts. I don't have great patience with ooc drama and will likely unfollow if there is a lot of it being posted by you.

Following and being followed by duplicates (other Arthurs) is completely fine with me. However, with the mentality sometimes, I won't go out of my way to follow first if only to avoid making anybody uncomfortable by me doing so. I'm also non-exclusive for general interactions, so multiples of the same character I am fine with. I may take mains, however, which means these blogs get priority over plots and focus in headcanons, etc.

CROSSOVERS AND ORIGINAL CHARACTERS: 

I'm crossover friendly so long as I know the character/fandom. That said, if I just can't get into it or make it fit, I won't force it.

I love original characters and you guys are cool with me, however I do need to see at least some stats or a verse we can interact in before I follow/follow back. I'm also fine with your OC knowing Arthur in their backstory but, again, romantic stuff needs to be talked over with me first.

STARTER CALLS: 

I've found that I don't enjoy doing starter calls. I may do them here and there when the urge strikes, but the best way to interact with me is to message me or continuing memes sent or sent to me. I'm also more than happy to like other starter calls, too, if you want to throw them my way.

QUESTIONS?: 

No. Go away. >:(

I’m kidding. Just drop me a message, I’ll get back to you. I also have a Discord available to mutuals, if that’s what you prefer. I promise I’m not as much as a hard ass as these rules make me seem.

ABOUT THE MUN: 

Hey! Thank you for reading these if you do. A little introduction here: my name is Rory, I'm 25, Canadian and operate mostly out of the GMT-7 time zone. Though, I tend to post at odd hours so that may not be too noticeable. I'm nonbinary and I prefer they/them. I'm a full time university student, which means that I may disappear when studies pile up or my time is divided. That said, I do enjoy talking to people when I'm able. My IMs and Discord are always available to mutuals, just drop me a message.

[vroenis]

Mood Dependence

The first tag I drop on the entry is of-course Kentucky Route Zero.

I forget whether I’ve talked about this before so here we are talking about it again some more. While I was playing KRZ and occasionally posting about it on social media, among others, two particular friends responded to me about it and we engaged, having some good discussions on and off. I suggested that playing the game might be highly mood dependent, but that for me engaging in most art is mood dependent, the only thing that varies is to what degree. If I was still more of a wanker, I might suggest that the more artsy-fartsy a product is, the more mood dependent it is but that’s not the case. I very much have to be in the right frame of mind to engage with Marvel or Bravest Warriors as much as Gaspar Noé, it really does depend on the individual and what mood they’re most frequently in or find themselves in at the time.

I find it affects more than the consumption of and engagement with art, tho. I don’t know if it’s a bipolar thing or a human thing and I say that a lot; it affects my ability to write, create, engage with people - enact actions in the world. The only thing I have to brute-force my way thru is of-course my employment which raises particularly interesting capitalistic questions of societal structure. I’m not entirely here to smash the establishment tho - there are times where discipline is useful; on a base level, discipline and the ability to overcome how we feel assists us with survival and sure it’s disgusting to apply that to the nth degree entirely in the ultimate capitalist sense, but again on a base level, being able to hold down a job in an of itself isn’t necessarily evil. Before we go Burning Down The Corporations, I need to make careful distinctions between my mental states and my physical states, as a first example. Minds and bodies are complex systems and understanding them is my responsibility.

Nevertheless I can never stray too far from my iconoclastic nature and Art-capital-A is one of my most primary motivators. There is definitely plenty wrong in the world at large we have created over generations and the societal structures therein regarding how we understand people and psychology and I’m fairly certain we will never address it to our ultimate destruction, that is fairly observable, mundane, and an immense tragedy for literally billions of people who will luck out in the birth lottery or have already done so. Art is the only thing that from a pragmatic perspective is both meaningless and unnecessary and so becomes the most essential and important thing for humanity. We must inject the most meaning and emotion into it possible. It becomes charged with the most powerful intangible things we have; our emotions. This is why bad art must be celebrated and documented. Anger, frustration, humour is just as valuable as everything we think is noble.

It’s also why the struggle to create is very real and perhaps one of the greatest challenges. It’s probably why I pushed myself to write today. Usually I’m cautious about pushing myself to produce, and I want to again be very careful with the language I use being so capitalist, even if only by stating it. It’s hazardous discussing everything in terms of product - I know I mentioned in a previous entry and Capitalism tries to convince you that everything you create is a product and it has no value unless someone is buying it, so a reminder to myself and to you that it’s not what’s happening here. I could frame it as exercise, and I’m now thinking (typing? lol) aloud in that an exercise is effectively an investment - a preparation for ability, capability for the future and again it all sounds quite capitalist, doesn’t it? Do we always do things only with the hope of some kind of profit? A return on investment? Do we evaluate everything only if and when there is a return, at the valuation point, like a board game about speculative stocks? If the board game never concludes because of an unforeseen interruption, do we not name a winner and so the game and the stocks - the product and our labour - never had any value?

Do I write this to answer these questions, or only to ask them, and which has value?

All the philosophy majors will have a lot of angles on what has value or whether there’s any point to value at all as a frame which is great. Value as a phenomena is a whole Thing - we can discuss whether or not I have any intent to create or suggest Value capital V (that’s getting annoying, I know, so that will be the last time) but that will be fairly pointless.

(I made that; you can steal it).

Over the last few entries, I’ve not directly talked about the one monumental current event that’s dominated the attention of world at large. If you note the dates on these entries and you’re visiting from the future, you may have to look up what was happening around now if I haven’t mentioned it explicitly anywhere as I likely won’t. There was one vague reference to it in the Kaossilator post which is as close as I care to get. There are so many other things happening in our lives (J and mine) that I’d say were interruptions, but they’re not really - they’re just life, but they’re the daily challenges that make creating difficult.

It means coming here and writing weekly or bi-weekly, as is my intention, is a challenge. It means turning on all my gear and working on music is a huge challenge. It means watching films and sometimes even YouTube is a challenge. A lot of it it energy dependent, heaps of it is naturally time dependent, but for me a significant portion is mood dependent and my understanding of that is it’s more dimensional than just not feeling like it.

Over dinner a while ago, our family were discussing films released in 2019 and which was my favourite and honestly I think I got around to seeing one. I think the next most recent film I saw in the last 12 months was Hereditary which I enjoyed most, so if I see a film within 24 months of its release these days, I’m doing well. Mostly this is due to time and opportunity, but it’s mostly due to mood; I just don’t want to watch most films, even ones I’m interested in seeing and want to watch. 

Our hosts also asked us what we thought of the place as they’d just recently moved in and were still in the process of moving things around and my perspective was and is that I like subtle - and often not so subtle suggestions of separations of space for application. When I read, I read in specific places. When I create music, I only do it in the studio, tho there are exceptions when I take one or two smaller pieces of gear out of the room as that’s a ton of fun for a refreshing change. When I play games, it’s on the consoles down at the television, the same goes for when I watch films or shows - we don’t have more than one room with TVs in them, and while J can and does watch shows on her iPad in bed, it’s not something I can do. For me, I want a dedicated space in which I focus on film to engage with it.

This applies to the times when I create and engage with art, too, and I’ve mentioned before that there are even times when I do and don’t listen to certain albums or pieces of music. In this post-KRZ life I’m in, (need to change the name of this journal to Art Worth Dying For: or Life Post-Kentucky Route Zero), I’m trying to write these longer posts every Friday night after work, but it’s turning out to be either Saturday during the day, Saturday evening or on the Sunday. During the week I try to add something shorter, but I do want to maintain some semblance of regular discipline because writing is good for me, in particular in lieu of ceasing other online activities. I’ve found that engagement in general is low on other platforms, and while it does occur rarely and at a moderate level, it isn’t regular enough for my liking. Like many, I’ve taken a somewhat passive role on Instagram where the Stories are utilised to post temporary activity and engagement is higher, and on Facebook I respond to posts in the Akai Force group where necessary but only when relevant which isn’t often.

I’d rather come here and write endlessly and be orderly, in short and long-format text, and as expressed in my Instagram stories; even post images in a more static format that invites slower digestion and contemplation with a view to better interpolation of text and context of that text in relation to the images.

It doesn’t matter that I don’t have an audience here, what matters is that I like the form and format and that it feels right for my expression. It allows me to inject value into it, so I guess it’s good product then; even if no-one is buying. Good ol’ capitalism. I don’t know if writing discipline will lead to music discipline, that’s certainly not one of the aspirations I maintain - if it’s a side-effect, it’s welcome. Nevertheless, there’s a charm in writing publicly and being able to come back, re-read my thoughts and reflect on what comes out when I plug directly into what’s going on and let some of the previous week spill out, delineated in text and a few images - these tiny snapshots of what life is like for me. I feel like it’s valuable, insightful even if just for me, for what my life is becoming, the Art that is shaping it along with the events I’m experiencing - am subject to. That’s ominous, as it should be. It should be for us all. We are subject to Art.

[azvolrien]

Water Horses - Chapter Three

Fun With Fantasy Economics

~~~

           They loaded the panniers back onto Pardus’s back and led the construct along the path toward the market.

           “How does this usually work?” asked Asta. “Do you set up a stall?”

           “You can,” said Roan, “but there are always a couple of merchants who’ll just buy the whole lot in one go. So I usually have a wander around to determine how much things are going for and sell to one of them. You make more money running a stall – it’s not like you need to pay a fee for it; you can just arrive and set up – but the convenience of going to a buyer can often be worth it if you don’t have the patience for a stall.”

           “And what have you got today?”

           Asta stopped dead. “Who said that?”

           A huge creature leapt down from the summit of a rock formation to their left, landing neatly on the path in front of them. Razor-sharp talons, each one six inches long – a cruelly hooked beak bigger than any eagle’s – keen, utterly inhuman yellow eyes – Asta backed behind Pardus, ready to leap into the saddle and run back to the boat.

           “Oh, it’s just you,” said Roan. “Morning, Pirate.”

           “What’s the matter with her?” asked the creature – Pirate? “Has she never seen a gryphon before?”

           “It’s possible that she hasn’t,” said Roan thoughtfully. “Asta? You can come out – he won’t hurt you.”

           “Sorry if I gave you a bit of a fright,” said Pirate. “Most people who come out here are used enough to us. Most Stormhaven crews have a gryphon or two among them.”

           Without the detail-focus provided by sheer panic, it was easier to take in the whole picture. On all fours, Pirate was big enough to stand eye-to-eye with Roan, while his wings might have been more than twenty feet across if he fully unfolded them. His feathers were a uniform dark tan colour across his whole body, save for a golden-brown strip back between his pointed ears and a black patch over one eye. Asta managed a nervous smile.

           “I don’t think I’ve seen you come here with another person before,” said Pirate, addressing Roan again. “What’s up?” He peered more closely at Asta, and his eyes narrowed. “You haven’t started trading in slaves, have you?” His tone suggested that things could get extremely nasty if the answer was ‘Yes’.

           Asta swallowed and edged out from behind Pardus. “No, she hasn’t – I’m an escapee. She thought I might be able to get passage to Stormhaven here.”

           “Oh, that’s all right, then,” said Pirate, brightening.

           “Is your captain around?” asked Roan. “I thought she might be the best bet.”

           “She’s up at the market,” said Pirate. “Come on, I’ll walk with you.”

           “So… you’re a pirate?” asked Asta as they walked.

           Pirate laughed, or at least he made a strange clacking sound in his throat that seemed to be the gryphon equivalent. “No, just a smuggler. ‘Pirate’ is my name – after this.” He tapped the back of one talon against his black marking. “And our crew doesn’t deal in… questionable goods,” he added, seeing that Asta still looked uncertain. “No drugs, slaves or weapons. Everything we carry is harmless. We just, ah… bypass the official tariffs on it.”

           “It’s a long and illustrious tradition,” said Roan, deadpan. “Here we are.”

           The market didn’t exactly look like Asta’s idea of a smugglers’ den, though her idea had mostly been gleaned from childhood adventure novels. A couple of dozen stalls had been set up around the perimeter of a wide, sandy ‘square’, with canvas awnings stretched over their stockpiles of goods. People – not looking furtive at all – wandered around, stopping at this stall or another and haggling over whatever they bought or sold. The majority of them were human, but another gryphon hung around a campfire near one stall, and an elf in the black habit of a Starwatch acolyte was deep in negotiations over a sack of coffee beans. Although it was not as refined as Siraki Square back in Duncraig, where the ground was paved with polished granite slabs and the stalls in permanent stone-built booths, in most other ways it could have been any village square on market day.

           The biggest difference, other than the location, was how many of the traders were armed. Roan still carried her spear, and almost everyone but Asta and the gryphons sported at least a long knife at their belt, if not more formidable weaponry. The gryphons, of course, had their talons.

           Pirate led them over to the stall with the other gryphon, who was conversing with two humans over a chart laid out on a crate. “Captain! These two would like a word with you.”

           “Captain Steel,” said Roan with a respectful nod.

           “Roan NicBruide,” said the gryphon in reply. Like Pirate, she had clearly been named for her appearance: unlike him, her eyes were a shade of grey very like Roan’s, and the feathers around both of them made a silvery mask. She wore a leather harness around her chest, carrying a number of handy satchels, but the closest things she had to rank insignia were a couple of silver rings piercing her ears and a scarf tied around her neck, the fine wool dyed a very expensive shade of purple. She glanced briefly at Asta, her eyes narrowing as Pirate’s had when she noticed the collar. “Looking to sell?”

           “Yes, but not her,” said Roan. She quickly explained the situation, with a few details from Asta.

           Steel raked the talons of one hind foot through the feathers on her belly. “Well, with regards to selling, I know McClellan at the far stall there has a reputation for giving a fair price. Takes the stance that you’ll lose money in the long run by swindling people, since fewer people will want to trade with you. With regards to you, Ms zeDamar…” She trailed off, her eyes narrowing in thought again. “No, no, this is annoying me too much. Keelan, run down to Blayney and get the bolt cutters, will you? I’m taking that collar off her.” One of her human crew nodded and ran off. “Back to the matter of your passage.” She gestured with a wing for them to follow her over to the chart. “I would, of course, be delighted to offer you passage to Stormhaven. Our laws not just allow but require sanctuary to be given to escaped slaves, and on a more personal level we’re always happy to thumb our noses at the trade. So to speak.”

           “However…?” said Asta, sensing an incoming caveat.

           Steel inclined her head towards her. “We aren’t going directly back to Stormhaven.” She tapped the point of a talon against the map, showing the route plotted out. “We’re heading north – all the way up to Valsnes at the mouth of Myrkfjord.”

           “Won’t you hit the sea ice at this time of year?” asked Roan.

           “We expect to, yes,” said Steel. “That’s why Curlew is travelling in convoy with Narwhal – it’s an icebreaker. So.” She flexed her wings and folded them more closely against her back. “Would I be correct in saying you would prefer not to accompany us up to Valsnes?”

           “It does sound rather cold,” admitted Asta.

           Steel laughed. “Thought as much. We’ll be back here in about a month. If you still want to leave with us, the offer will still stand.”

           “Think you can handle another month in the broch?” asked Roan.

           “If you don’t mind having me.”

           “You’re easy enough company,” said Roan. “I’m going to go and check the market values – will you be all right staying with Pardus and this lot to mind our stuff?” When Asta nodded, Roan shouldered her spear and set off along the row of stalls.

           Steel chuckled.

           “What?” asked Asta.

           “Nothing, really,” said Steel. “She just always reminds me somewhat of one of the journeyman wizards up at the College back at home.”

           “How so?” asked Pirate, tilting his head.

           “Colour scheme, mainly.” Steel turned away from the chart to rummage in one of the crates. “While Ms NicBruide is off on her rounds, can I offer you some tea?”

           Keelan returned with the bolt cutters as another of the crew started boiling a kettle on the campfire. A human might have had trouble breaking the metal, but with the strength of a gryphon behind them the bolt-cutters sliced through the brass collar with ease.

           Asta pulled it free and rubbed her throat. “It’s been years,” she said quietly. “Thank you.”

           “Think nothing of it.” The kettle began to whistle over the fire. Its handle was bigger and wider than normal, allowing Steel to hook her talons under it and start pouring out the boiling water.

           “You – you said you were travelling with the Narwhal?” asked Asta.

           “That’s correct, yes.” Steel dipped the tip of her beak into her own mug. “Curlew is good for sailing up and down the coast – its design has a good compromise between speed and cargo space – but it doesn’t have the hull for sea ice. Narwhal is designed to break right through it.”

           “I think I saw it being launched, back in Duncraig,” said Asta. “It’s actually a construct, isn’t it?”

           Steel looked rather impressed by this question. “Yes – the biggest ever grown. It carries the ‘ship’ on a harness on its back, while its skull is ridged and armoured for breaking ice. The armour looks a little like its namesake’s horn, but much sturdier.”

           “The Constructists back at home will never admit it,” supplied Pirate, “but the ones in Duncraig are working on some very exciting stuff with aquatic constructs.”

           “They still have a while to go until producing constructs like Narwhal is entirely practical,” said Steel, “but at least they’ve proved the concept is sound. More tea?”

           Roan returned after about a quarter of an hour to find Asta deep in conversation with Steel, Pirate, Keelan and a couple of other crew members about the merits of grown constructs versus built ones.

           “I suppose they both have their positives and negatives,” said Asta. “Speaking as an enthusiastic observer, that is – the only magic I can do is to summon and dismiss Pardus here,” she stroked her construct’s nose, “and that’s all in the summoning stone, not in me.”

           “Grown constructs are much less wasteful,” said Keelan. “Once made, they last for a lifetime.”

           “That’s true, but they’re also much slower to make,” said Pirate. “A skilled Constructist can knock together a half-decent built construct in a couple of days, if they have the materials for it; Narwhal took months to grow, and Pardus would have taken – what, a fortnight?”

           “That’s about right, yes,” said Asta. “I would ultimately argue that grown constructs are better for personal transportation – a bound construct can’t be stolen; Pardus will never obey anyone but me, or Daro would have taken it to sell – but built ones are probably more economical on an industrial scale.”

           Roan cleared her throat, hiding her smile behind her fist. “Speaking of your construct – I need it to carry our stuff over to McClellan’s stall.”

           Asta waved farewell to the Curlew crew and led Pardus after Roan.

           “That seemed to go well,” Roan commented.

           “…Did you leave me alone with them to see if I could trust them?”

           “No, I knew full well you could trust them. I left you alone with them to see if you could stand them enough to share a boat with them.”

           “Very cunning,” said Asta flatly, half-suppressing a smile.

           “You look much better with the collar off, by the way,” Roan added. “You stand taller without it.”

           McClellan’s reputation for fairness turned out to be accurate: he gave Roan a good price for the fish, pelts, vegetables and other goods Each-Uisge had borne over from the mainland, enough to buy fresh supplies with a little left over to set aside. All in all, Pardus was hardly less laden returning to the boat than it had been when they arrived.

           “I think that’s the first time I’ve heard you talking about your interests,” said Roan, packing a sack of oats into the locker. “So you like constructs, then?”

           Asta passed a bag of bread rolls down to her. “Yes. They were something of an obsession when I was little – I used to sit in my window for hours, just watching for any passing by in the street – and I’ve made a bit of a study of them ever since. I know all the steps and spells for how to make one, too – I just…” She held out one hand palm-up, demonstrating her complete lack of magical ability. “…can’t actually do it.”

           Roan glanced at Pardus, then looked back at Asta and raised an eyebrow.

           “Pardus was a gift,” explained Asta. “My parents commissioned it to celebrate my university graduation.”

           Roan nodded and packed the rolls in next to the oats. “That must have cost them a fair bit.”

           “I think they started saving up as soon as I matriculated,” said Asta. “They couldn’t have afforded it otherwise. We weren’t poverty-stricken, but not exactly rich either. We had enough for everything we needed, but not necessarily everything we wanted.” She sighed and looked out at the horizon.

           Roan let the silence lie for a couple of seconds before she cleared her throat again and pointed at the next item, a smallish bale of woollen cloth. “That Daro lad probably got everything he wanted growing up, and look how he turned out.”

           Asta shook her head as if to clear it, rubbing the back of one hand against her eyes, and half-laughed, half-winced. It was easier to joke about Daro when he was well out of sight. “Yes, that’s him in a nutshell.” She lifted the roll of cloth and handed it down, and climbed back into the boat herself once everything was packed away.

           “Time to go,” said Roan, coiling the mooring rope and hanging it over its hook. “For obvious reasons, we need to be back at the broch before dark.”

           “Do the water horses like that beach as well?” asked Asta as Roan readied the sail and adjusted the tiller.

           “Not as much as they like the rocks, for some reason,” said Roan. “But still – best to avoid it after dark just in case.”

           They were almost back to the mainland when Roan suddenly pressed a finger to her lips and pointed into the water alongside the boat, jerking her head in the same direction when Asta just gave her a confused shrug in reply. Asta nodded and, keeping low and moving slowly, shifted from one side of the boat to the other to peer over the side.

           The water was murky with peat and silt washed down from the hills, but even so the great mottled shape was clear enough. Riabhach the water stallion was keeping pace with the boat just below the surface of the water, and close up it became clear that he was not only bigger than his fellow water horses, he was longer than the boat and easily big enough to shatter its planking should he take exception to its presence.

           Roan pointedly met Asta’s eyes and pointed downwards, before sliding off her seat in the stern to crouch in the bottom of the hull. Asta nodded back and copied her. The boat creaked and rocked as Riabhach’s back scraped against the underside. Roan and Asta stared at each other, holding completely still for a few minutes. Something broke the surface; a huge snout let out a gruff snort. Then, nothing. Roan gestured for silence again and carefully sat back up to look over each side of the boat in turn.

           “He’s gone,” she said, sitting back in the pilot’s seat with a sigh of relief. “Close one, though.”

           “Would he have attacked the boat?” asked Asta, fighting back the tremor in her voice.

           “He never has,” said Roan, with a grimace that acknowledged this was not a reassuring ‘no’. “I’ve never been wholly sure how clever they are. I’m pretty sure he knows a boat isn’t prey or a rival – but I don’t know if he thinks it’s just an interesting piece of flotsam, or if he knows full well it’s something people ride in and just didn’t think we were enough of a threat to bother with.”

           “Maybe he’s less territorial towards things he meets out at sea? If the rocks and beaches are where all his, his wives and children are most unsafe?”

           Roan gave her an odd look with a small smile. “I’ve never heard anyone refer to a water horse as having wives and children before. But that would make some sense, aye.”

           At last, Each-Uisge ran back up on the beach and Roan climbed out to shove it back into the shed. “With a bit of time to spare, too,” she said, gesturing towards the western horizon, where the sun was sinking lower but had not yet turned red. “We’ll – well, Pardus will carry everything back to the broch in one trip, and then you can help me get Vanessa and the girls locked up.”

           Asta paused in the middle of summoning Pardus back out of its stone and blinked. “Who’s Vanessa?”

           “The boss hen.”

           “Oh. You’re talking about the chickens.” She held the summoning stone up and stood back to let Pardus materialise around it. “The chickens have a boss?”

           “Of course!” Roan lifted the panniers, ready to swing them across Pardus’s back. “Haven’t you heard of a pecking order?”

           “Very funny.” Roan just grinned, and started loading the panniers as soon as they were in place.

           With the hens safely cooped up for the night – and feisty Vanessa duly identified as having a redder tail than the others – Roan unlocked the broch door and let them back into the gloom of the interior. The fire had died down to a few glints of red among the ash, but it still cast some warmth out into the room.

           “Well, then,” said Roan, dusting off her hands once everything from the market had been properly stored away. “Looks like we’re stuck with each other for a month.” Nothing in her tone suggested she was disappointed about this.

           Asta folded her arms, leaning against the wall by the stairs. Roan’s wound tincture had done its work well; covered by the dressing and her tunic, the wounds on Asta’s back were no longer unbearable to the touch. “Funnily enough,” she said, smiling, “I think I’m all right with that.”

~~~

Steel doesn’t actually know Wygar; I’m not sure if she even knows what his name is. He just has a very memorable appearance.

Roan is more sentimental about her hens than you might expect. She doesn’t even eat them once they stop laying.

[knifeshoeoreofight]

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4

“Okay so,” Fleury says, around a mouthful of grilled tuna steak. “The more we know, the more we don’t?”

It’s been yellowfin tuna steaks all week, but it’s stretching their stipends out so no one’s complaining.

“Like,” Flower continues. “We know he breathes air. When he’s above water he inhales and exhales. I’ve seen him surface to breathe and then go back down. His people’s entire concept of love is built around the metaphor of breathing, for fuck’s sake. So. Dolphins can only hold their breath for, like, what?”

“Eight to ten minutes,” Zhenya supplies.

Flower waves a fork at him in acknowledgment. “Right. And I know I’ve been him stay submerged for longer. So. What the fuck is up with his respiratory and circulatory systems, man?”

Zhenya shrugs. As a marine mammal specialist he’s been asking himself the same questions. All his scientific inquiry has been a little buried, though, under the feverish desire to communicate with Sid. He knows Sid isn’t just science to Letang and Fleury, not anymore, but while they care about him, they aren’t as…consumed. Zhenya doesn’t want to use the word obsessed. He just can’t stop thinking about how much he wants to tell Sid and how much he wants to ask him, held up against the woefully inadequate shared language they’ve managed to accrue.

“I want to know more about their social structure too,” Fleury is continuing.

“We maybe learn family words tomorrow,” Zhenya says thoughtfully. “Can show pictures of your family, too.”

Predictably, Fleury and Letang both light up. They each have lovely wives and beautiful children, and are both equally incapable of shutting up about either. It makes Zhenya feel fond and amused, if a bit… lonely.

“You should dive with him again,” Letang adds. “Do some underwater observation, get some footage we can analyze later.”

Zhenya nods, and smiles into his water glass at the idea of swimming with Sid again. And if Magda is close by, maybe her and her rapidly growing calf as well.

At the thought of Magda’s calf, Zhenya feels a by-now familiar ache in his chest. How much time do they really have? He takes a sip of water and half wishes it were something stronger.

***

After Zhenya uses the flash cards he made to teach Sid the words for family relationships, he moves aside and lets Fleury and Letang show their photos. Sid is delighted with them.

This is my wife, Letang signs proudly. My breath-person.

Very beautiful, Sid says. She’s beautiful, your face is very bad. He makes a confused, sad face and shakes his head.

“Hey!” Letang protests, until he notices the way Sid’s trying to hide his smirk. Zhenya laughs. Letang is a good guy but he’s definitely proud of his looks, and Sid has obviously noticed that.

Ugly is bad, for your eyes he tells Sid. K is very ugly.

Sid laughs his strange, clicking laugh while Letang sputters.

Sid doesn’t tease him about his children though. He gently touches the images of Alex and tiny Victoria and smiles.

His eyes go even softer when he learns about Fleury’s family and Fleury taps his wife’s belly in the photo.

Baby, he tells Sid. She’s pregnant. Third.

Where are they? Sid asks. I see?

Far, Fleury replies, and Zhenya has to look down for a moment at the homesick yearning in Fleury’s eyes.

Why? Sid asks, and even the moment of his hands is gentler, his eyes big with concern.

Fleury looks around helplessly at the rest of them. “How do I explain science, you guys?” he asks.

We look at things in the ocean, Zhenya tries. We look at things to know more. We look at bad things and fix them. Or, try too.

What is ‘fix?’ Sid asks

Make something bad, not bad Zhenya answers.

Sid nods slowly, and then turns to Fleury and pats him gently in the shoulder.

“Well. Let’s get your gear sorted out,” Fleury says to Zhenya, smile a little wobbly.

***

It’s amazing, being underwater with Sid again. This time he’s not as put off by Zhenya’s scuba gear. Sid swims wide, excited loops around Zhenya, finally taking him by the arm when Zhenya is slower than Sid would like.

It takes Zhenya a while to figure out that when Sid makes a jabbing motion at himself that it’s a beckoning gesture. A jabbing motion at oneself means “come here [to me],” and the same motion applies to say, an interesting coral formation is “go there,” not just “look.” Slightly different than a sweep of the arm or a crooking of the fingers, like a lot of humans do.

They end up in an open sandy area patrolled by a school of lemon sharks. Zhenya kneels on the sand and watches them circle. It’s a pretty docile species, so he just enjoys watching them glide through the water. He’s always been fond of them; the mothers migrate to the same lagoons they were born in to have their pups. Reminds him of his beloved cetaceans.

Sid goes off on his own for a moment, then returns with a fish in hand. He lets a massive pregnant female bite it in two, then heaves the rest of it toward a school of juveniles, letting them scrabble over the scraps. He settles on the sand next to Zhenya, who is helplessly smiling at him around his regulator.

Sid smiles back. He points at the enormous female shark.

Mother he says.

Beautiful Zhenya answers. Big.

Sid becomes a little more alert when a tiger shark decides to join the party. He doesn’t move aggressively or reach for his weapon, just orients his body to keep it in sight.

Zhenya marvels at it as it passes them, massive barred side gliding two feet in front of his face, and tries not to feel nervous. He knows that they aren’t interested in humans unless provoked, but. Still. It’s a tiger shark. It’s enormous.

Sid, even though he once expressed anger towards them in regards to Magda’s calf, calmly keeps pace with it, swimming right above it, even trailing a hand down to brush against its back.

Great tail moving like a scythe, the creature decides there’s nothing of interest and moves off. Sid watches it go, and as he does, taps two fingers against his throat.

Zhenya wonders if it’s a superstitious or religious gesture. It reminded him somehow of military salutes, or of someone crossing themselves in church.

One apex predator acknowledging another, he supposes.

What is [gesture]? he asks.

Sid tilts his head, considering. Many fish he signs, and has to think again. Many baby. Good— he moves his hand around, gesturing at everything around them. Life, maybe, Zhenya thinks. He makes the gesture himself, and Sid smiles, fond.

They’re about halfway back to the boat, Zhenya’s air supply running low, when a shadow falls over them and Sid whips around, pushing Zhenya behind him and drawing his weapon.

Zhenya stares, awestruck. 

It’s…a mermaid, beautiful face like a storm, teeth bared. She doesn’t look anything like Sid. She has delicate spines and fins, red and white like a lionfish’s. Her eyes and skin are dark, and she has long, long black hair that streams behind her like a banner.

When she speaks, she doesn’t open her mouth, just like Sid. But even Zhenya can tell, after listening to Sid for so long, that the sound of her words isn’t quite the same. She gestures angrily to Sid, indicating himself and then pointing at Zhenya. Sid answers her, but she interrupts whatever he says with a storm of furious-sounding speech. She’s beautiful, and she’s terrible, and Zhenya, for the thousandth time in the last few weeks, wonders if he’s dreaming.

Exchange over, she makes a final, dismissive gesture, and flares all of her fins. Sid takes Zhenya by the arm and pulls him, as fast as they can swim together, back towards the waiting boat.

Once there, Zhenya throws off his gear as fast as he can.

The mermaid, he asks Sid. Same words?

Sid looks…troubled, and there’s something like pain in his eyes as he slowly raises his hands to speak.

Close, many different words. She’s here, I’m north, far. He pauses again. He’s not looking at Zhenya now and something is tightening Zhenya’s throat and filling his stomach with dread.

She say…say is bad. You see me. It’s bad. Sid’s head is bowed.

Zhenya can’t stand it, he just can’t. He kneels on the dive platform.

“Sid,” he says aloud, and finally, Sid looks up at him. His expression makes Zhenya feel sick.

No, Zhenya tells him. It’s not bad. I—

How does he explain, “promise.”

Not bad. I won’t say, other people. It’s not—

His eyes are wet. The idea of Sid slipping away into the blue and Zhenya never seeing him again is just. It’s—

Sid makes a soft noise.

E he signs, and accompanies it with a sound that has the cadence of Zhenya’s name.

He looks frustrated, and Zhenya recognizes that frustration. It’s having so many important things to say, but no words to say them with.

Sid reaches up, tugs at him to lean closer, moving one hand to the back of Zhenya’s neck. Sid closes his eyes, takes a shuddering breath, opens them, and with a kind of fierceness lays four fingers at the base of Zhenya’s throat. His eyes bore into Zhenya’s, willing him to understand.

Zhenya’s breath catches. Everything around them seems to fall away, as the universe shifts, tilts, and clicks into place, unfamiliar and new.

He reaches out, and lays his own shaking fingers at the base of Sid’s throat, right above the gold chain he gave to him. He can feel the flutter of Sid’s pulse, feel the rise and fall of his chest.

Sid leans his forehead against Zhenya’s, making quiet, murmuring noises. The few gentle clicks among them make Zhenya’s fingers jump with the movement of his throat.

“Okay,” Zhenya says, just as softly. “Okay.”

Sid lifts his hands and leans back,  and Zhenya feels the absence of his touch like an ache.

One sun Sid tells him. One sun. You come. Boat.

I haven’t taught him how to say “tomorrow” is all Zhenya can think as Sid gives him one last look, and slips under the surface.

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[ladymacbethsspot]

Cold Snap

Canonverse: violence, emotions, hurt/comfort, Erwin being Erwin, and a whole lot of gratuitous descriptions regarding stuff being quite chilly. 2.1k words, mirrored on ao3.

Staging one final expedition beyond the walls before year’s end had been a mistake. One Erwin only came to appreciate when he awoke with the dawn on the third day.

The morning was cold. Frigid. Bitter. The quickly shortening, mild days of autumn that lingered far beyond their usual stay had evaporated soundlessly like mist, burnt away by the merciless arrival of winter. Cold blazed just as searing as hot. Erwin’s stinging ears, the stiffness in his lower back, the visible form his breath took when it made contact with the air- all evidence.

Their encampment was afflicted with its malaise. Overnight the abandoned town had turned from a welcome waypoint to a silent museum; skeletal trees and half-preserved buildings stood, sharp edges muted by a blanket of snow. Erwin shivered, pulling his cloak closer, and headed out to check his horse.

A sharp crack reached Erwin’s ears when he came upon the remnants of the stable. He made for the noise. Inside the structure was no warmer, despite the animal bodies crowded together. If anything, it was colder. There stood Levi, the sound’s source. He leaned over a water trough, striking the frozen surface with the heel of his boot. His leg moved in violent, staccato notes. The ice groaned. He struck again. It yielded with a pop, thick shards and icy droplets flying from the path of worn leather. Winter may have arrived with a vengeance, but its icy trappings were no match for the strength of his smallest Squad Leader.

Not all the Scouts took the abrupt shift in climate in stride. Readying to break camp took longer. Fingers, slow to bend, fitted on belts and packed away supplies clumsily- losing time. Grumbles ate up the space normally occupied by banter. Cups of hot water for a morning meal required eternities to boil. Each was already cold before it could be finished.

All protests ceased when Erwin announced the intent to travel back to the walls, cutting their mission short. None were as disappointed as him. Hopes of one final surveying opportunity before the long, dead season were dashed. A mission that had been carefully planned- ruined. In the face of such conditions, the one remaining option was shame: return empty-handed.

Only Hanji saw it as a blessing and opportunity. Undaunted, they launched a barrage of chatter at Erwin before breaking camp. Maybe they would see titans on the way back; maybe their behavior would be affected by the temperature. Would they be slower? Would they be easy to spot, betrayed by a column of steam rising from their warm bodies? Hanji was so eager. Erwin was not. He prayed they wouldn’t find any answers.

Questions rung hollow in Erwin’s head as they rode out. Only one thought stuck, itching at the back of his mind as it always did outside the ring of the walls. Constant vigilance. That was the only way to survive.

His horse galloped on, the snow doing little to slow their advance. Fluid motion of the beast under him, the freezing air whipping around- it was exhilarating. The blue dome of sky above was achingly clear, air too cold to condense into shape. Each breath stung, but there was nothing more painfully sweet than the feeling of taking another. Quiet but for horses’ hooves. Still but for their animals’ advance, eating up the ground in front of them. Anemic, blue shadows shrunk and then lengthened as the day wore on.

An hour before sunset they reached the hills. Erwin split the formation, sending troops around each side before heading straight over himself. This way, he thought, they’d have better visibility. This way they stood more of a chance.

This way they were scattered.

The titans loomed before them, hidden until the last moment by tricks played by rough terrain and disorienting camouflage of stark light and shadow. The calm had snapped, wrenched away by surprise and terror. Everyone was slow to react. Their faces numbed by the wind. Arms and legs shaking already from exposure before fear. Everyone was slow, except Levi. His anchors clicked, accompanied by the hiss of gas as he flew towards the nearest giant. The sounds broke the spell, they spurred everyone to action and the fight began in earnest.

As always, the carnage was impossibly quick. Soldiers were scooped from horses, frozen before they could scream. In chaos, both fear and cold were equally deadly- both compromised a man. Shrieks echoed back upon themselves, twisted and magnified by the hills. A titan, felled by three men, sent up a hissing column of steam thicker and whiter than a flare. Amidst the clamor Erwin’s body took command from his mind. He entered the fray, slashing at the neck of a titan, felling it with powerful, practiced strokes. Landing back on the ground, cushioned by the snow, he surveyed the situation. Constant vigilance. Scanning, for something. No, someone.

Levi flew through the air and Erwin turned his head to follow the arc. He had no time to marvel at the contradiction of the man’s graceful flight before he heard the sound. A click. Then nothing. No anchor. With a second click, an anchor shot out, changing Levi’s trajectory. Barely a moment was wasted. But a moment was all it took.

The titan’s arm moved faster than something its size had any right to.

Knocking Levi from the air, it clipped his wings.

Blades slashed bright flashes in front of him. They barely stopping the weight of his freefall: sinking into monstrous flesh at the Titan’s chest. Erwin surged forward. He shot anchors into the Titan’s shoulder.

No hesitation; Erwin did not think. Something was wrong. Levi was in danger.

The titan’s other hand batted at Levi. It plucked at a kicking leg while he hung precariously.

Erwin did not see. Nothing mattered. Nothing but the closing distance between himself and the titan’s neck. Nothing but his blades sinking deep, slicing through tissue and sinew.

The beast lurched. Its conscious motion stopped. Life fled its grotesque body.

Erwin flew away, landing on the ground in time to see it tip. Levi swung along with its motion. For a sickening moment, fear gripped Erwin by the neck, strangling his breath.

Levi would be crushed by the titan as it fell. He might already be unconscious, grip maintained by sheer stubbornness.

The next sounds were a blessing. Two small noises, whisper-quiet snaps of blades released from handles accompanied by the familiar sound of the working anchor shooting out. The vapor trail of gas that followed Levi as he dropped to the ground left a reminder of the reason for the urgency of the previous moments.

They were not finished yet. The monsters were not vanquished.

The remaining titans were dispatched with cruel speed; the white snow was defiled. Marred by craters and scrapes, revealing dark ground underneath, gashes on the earth itself. Strokes and blotches of dark slick, of gore. Snow stained red, bleeding the blood of soldiers and monsters: indistinguishable.

When Erwin found Levi, he was cleaning newly-blooded blades and boots in the snow. His mouth formed a thin line, cold-purpled lips clenched grimly. The crystalline edge of violence had fled his body, leaving just a man. Painfully mortal.

“Are you hurt?”

Levi turned to face him. The dark stains on his uniform steamed away gently. His hair was stiff, eyelashes frozen, decorated with the most delicate threads of ice. His scowl did little to hide the slight shiver Erwin saw in his jaw.

“I’m fine. My gear’s gone to shit though. Iced over.” Erwin nodded. Even metal wasn’t immune to frost, even steel could shatter in the cold. Such betrayal could be crippling, even for the strongest of soldiers.

“Swap the parts with someone who no longer has need of theirs. We’ll make camp for the night.” Erwin whistled for his horse and sent up a distress flare to gather the troops.

That evening a grim mood sat heavy on the camp. Fires were built to bring some heat and relief, but the chill had already taken up residence deep in Erwin’s bones. It was more than just the weather that left him numb and brooding. It was the decisions he’d made, ones that led them into danger. It was the losses they’d sustained, more good men and women felled meaninglessly. It was the fear that had gripped him, the realization that he could lose control so easily.

Rations were dry and tasted like a sawdust in his mouth. A cup of boiled snow did little to quench his thirst. Erwin sat by the fire, staring into its depths as his mind floated, replaying once scene over and over. A click. Then nothing- no anchor. Levi missing, plucked from the air by the titan, his bones crushed as he cried out, light uniform dyed crimson.

The tin mug dropped from Erwin’s hand onto the ground, hot water splashing over his boots and melting a patch in the snow. He did not notice.

A loud click. Then nothing. Levi missing, falling, being caught by the titan, and ripped limb from limb. Levi screaming, the titan’s fingers tipped with his blood.

Erwin swallowed, his mouth felt dry.

A deafening click. Nothing. Levi, broken and almost unrecognizable, bloodied mouth barely moving as he lay in Erwin’s arms, life fleeing him.

Erwin stood quickly, his head reeling. He walked from out from the circle of the officers’ tents and continued until he was beyond the last soldier’s small campsite. His vision was hazy, narrow and distorted. His stomach rolled and flipped. Bile rose in his throat. With a groan and a keening, painful sound Erwin bent over and vomited in the snow. Shoulders and chest shaking, the heaving continued until there was nothing left but acid and spit. And still he couldn’t be rid of it, the echoing sound of his downfall. A single click.

Long and sleepless, the hours passed. Erwin lay in his sleeping bag, watching the light from the fire outside the tent dim. He had retired early, hoping to banish the waking nightmares, or replace them with those that came with sleep. Instead, his mind buzzed steadily. Giving up, he put on his boots and jacket. Spending a restless night by the fire would be warmer.

Pushing aside the flap to his tent, Erwin did not expect to see anyone else still awake. Yet, there sat Levi, staring silently as embers burnt down to ash. The death throes of the fire cast flickering light across his features. Erwin moved to his side, sitting as close as he dared, as close as decorum would allow.

Erwin turned his head away from Levi and spoke, as though to no one in particular.

“It is very late. You should sleep.”

Levi agreed with a grunt.

“It is very cold tonight.”

A second grunt.

“My tent would be warmer.”

Erwin stood, took one last look at the fire, and went back into his tent. He removed his jacket and boots, then the rest of his clothing, before slipping back into his sleeping bag. The glow from the fire had faded at last. Muted footsteps, the flap of his tent being opened and closed. Levi entered.

Wordlessly, Levi removed his cloak. His boots followed. He looked around the tent, eyes taking in the pile of folded clothing Erwin’s uniform had become. Still silent, Levi stripped and made a second, smaller, pile next to it.

When he slid into the sleeping bag, Erwin couldn’t hold back a gasp. Levi was so cold. Every place Levi’s skin touched Erwin’s it stole the heat from him. Like frozen metal brushing against him. But Erwin did not shy away, instead wrapping both arms around the other man to pull him close. To fit his head in between chin and chest, to gather his limbs, surrounding him.

If not for safety, at least for reassurance.

If not for warmth, at least for relief.

It was a long time before Levi began to feel anything like human. Before pale, chapped lips took on color of their own. Before fingers and legs began to shiver as feeling returned. Erwin held tighter, burrowing them both deeper into the folds of the thin sleeping bag. He held tight until Levi’s trembling body calmed, until muscles no longer spasmed and twitched.

If not for safety, at least for comfort.

If not for warmth, at least for closeness.

Erwin felt the warm puffs of breath against his chest lengthen and grow gentle as Levi drifted off. Arms slowly encircled his waist, legs twining into his own. Entangled in Levi, the ghost of a single click began to fade. Banished by skin, and musk, by a sharp chin pressing into his sternum and the tickle of warm air disturbing the hairs on his chest. Erwin closed his eyes, burying his face in soft, straight hair.

He breathed deep and let himself be soothed by sleep’s embrace. Entangled- by Levi’s embrace.

Not for safety, not for warmth.

For something more.

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Archiving utilities such as WinRAR, WinZip or 7Zip are useful for compressing large files into smaller ones to send as email attachments to someone who can extract them using a similar tool, or store on USB flash drives with a limited capacity to transfer to another computer, for example. There are endless advantages to such tools.

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PNG is a lossy format on its own, and after conversion to JPG the quality of image may be notably worsened. PNG to JPG Converter features progressive compression algorithms that help to preserve the original quality of images. However, you can still decrease the file size or scale images for optimization purposes. Get free Winrar icons in iOS, Material, Windows and other design styles for web, mobile, and graphic design projects. These free images are pixel perfect to fit your design and available in both PNG and vector. Download icons in all formats or edit them for your designs. Also, be sure to check out new icons and popular icons. The recommended size of a high-resolution logo PNG file is 186×604 pixels. Crack for WinRAR 6 included inside the package. New “Clear history” command in the “Options” menu. Ctrl+C and Ctrl+Ins keyboard shortcuts can be used in “Diagnostic messages”. The photos you provided may be used to improve Bing image processing services. This Winrar Zip Archive Password Cracker Online - Winrar is high quality PNG picture material, which can be used for your creative projects or simply as a decoration for your design & website content. Winrar Zip Archive Password Cracker Online - Winrar is a totally free PNG image with transparent background and its resolution is 910x215.

When it comes to creating archives, though, there are many properties that can be taken into account, such as file type, compression mode, file checksums, and backups. Most casual users opt for the default, 'as is' configuration simply because it's faster and easier to understand.

However, learning about these parameters is essential for maximizing an archiver's efficiency and getting optimal results. It depends on what you're trying to compress, how much time you're willing to spend waiting for the task, and what amount of memory you're willing to spare when working with other applications at the same time.

Getting started with WinRAR

In the following guide, we're going to show you what type of compression to choose when putting together archives using WinRAR.

Get started by launching WinRar and clicking Add on the toolbar. This brings up the Archive name and parameters window, where you can click the Browse button to set the name and saving location of the new archive.

Archive format options

You can pick from three Archiveformat options: RAR, RAR5, and ZIP. If you want to send the resulted archive to someone else, you should take into account the archive extraction tool they might be using. ZIP is the safest option because it's more common than RAR and RAR5, thus supported by many extraction applications. RAR has additional customization settings as compared to ZIP (since it's WinRAR's proprietary format) while RAR5 is the newest file type of WinRAR, which brings a lot of improvements but isn't supported by versions older than WinRAR 5.0, so you must keep the compatibility factor in mind.

Compression methods

There are six Compression methods available: Store, Fastest, Fast, Normal, Good, and Best.

Normal is set by default and can be considered the baseline. For example, if you opt for archiving files in Windows Explorer by opening the right-click menu and clicking Add to 'Folder_name.rar', the normal compression mode is applied. It's a balance between speed and compression, suitable for day-to-day activities on the go, such as sending email attachments at work.

Store Free text effects after effects. adds the files to the archive as fast as it can but doesn't compress them at all. It's practical for storing multiple files into a single one (a container) that can be transferred to an external device faster than copying multiple files at once. It's the ideal mode for batches of documents or pictures that take little disk space. Besides, it's not possible to reduce the size of JPG and PNG files since they are already compressed by design.

The Fastest compression method is a bit slower than Store because it applies some degree of compression, although it's poor. Fast is slower than Fastest but speedier than Normal, and it applies better compression than Fastest but weaker than Normal. These two can be used for frequent data backups.

The Good compression mode can be used for large files that take up a lot of space. It can create archives with a significantly smaller size, but it takes a while. Winrar do.

Best takes compression to the highest level, but it's very slow. It's ideal if you want to save space and if you have the possibility of leaving your computer unattended so that it can take care of the archiving job without being slowed down by the activity of other programs, due to the fact that it uses a lot of memory. To speed it up and prevent it from hanging, make sure to close any other running applications.

Dictionary size and Create solid archive

Aside from the compression method, the ZIP filetype doesn't have other options that can be configured to influence performance. However, you can maximize the Dictionary size for RAR5 if you want to compress large files to get minimum file size, especially if Create solid archive is enabled (more on this next). You should keep in mind that it's a very slow and memory-demanding process.

If you tick the Create solid archive box to activate it, WinRAR delivers better compression results if there are many similar files. On the other hand, any further modifications you make to the archive (e.g. removing files or adding new ones) will be slower, and the chances of successfully recovering data in case of archive damage are slimmed down. It can be used for storing backups of the operating system, for instance.

Play our video below to view the speed difference between transferring a 1GB folder from a local drive to a network location using the Windows built-in copy option and performing the same option after compressing the 1GB folder using Store. You can also download WinRAR to run various scenarios with different compression settings.

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How to Pick the Right Compression Settings in WinRAR

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Check out our video to view the speed difference between transferring a 1GB folder from a local drive to a network location using the Windows built-in copy option and performing the same option after compressing the 1GB folder using the Store compression method in WinRAR. Check out our guide to learn more about its compression methods: http://www.softpedia.com/blog/how-to-pick-the-right-compression-settings-in-winrar-504277.shtml

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